#real shit this is something paul would say

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

[findmeinforks]

Stay - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

Happy 2024! I honestly didn't know what to call this, but I just kept writing and now I'll probably need a part 2 🙃 enjoy 💕 2.8K words

"You have no idea how excited I am. I mean just how long have I been begging you to come live with me?" Emily grinned into the phone that was tucked between her shoulder and ear. She paced the kitchen while whisking a bowl of brownie mix, mindlessly chatting away.

"I must warn you though that the house does get chaotic. But the boys are pretty good about keeping up after themselves," she said while swatting away Embry's hand that almost made a dip in the bowl. He put his hands up in self defense as she rolled her eyes.

"Sounds great. Sam will pick you up at the airport tomorrow at noon. Let me know if you need anything else, and have a safe flight. I love you!" She she set the bowl on the counter, hanging up the phone.

"Was that Y/N? She's moving in tomorrow?" Quil questioned from the table with a mouth full of chips.

"Yes, and I trust that you boys will be on your best behavior in welcoming her..." Emily raised her eyebrow as she pointed a dripping whisk of batter at all the men now surrounding the kitchen.

"Depends, is she hot?" Embry snickered as he sat down.

"Oh....she is." Quil emphasized with wide eyes.

"Get it Embry!" Paul snorted as he clapped him on the back, reaching over into Quil's bag of chips.

"They WILL be on their best behavior. And no one will be 'getting' shit." The booming voice of Sam emerged behind Emily, wrapping his arms around her torso.

He reached his head over her shoulder as she let him lick what was left on the whisk, earning a disgusted "Seriously?" from Quil.

"Hey, but what if she's my imprint??" Embry held his up his finger to argue.

"You know that would be a different story...but we know already she isn't Quil's" Sam smirked at the youngest pack members now disappointed face.

"You guys are kidding right? I've seen pictures. Shes insanely out of all your leagues." Jacob quipped as he strolled to the living room.

"Anything is better than my crushes newborn infant..." Embry muttered under his breath, making all the boys cower in laughter.

"Oh yeah? You wanna say that again?" Jacob challenged.

Sam walked around in between them, looking from side to side at them both.

"THIS is what Emily is talking about. Keep the fights outside boys. I mean it. Just because Y/N knows about the pack doesn't mean she won't get scared if you clowns nearly phase in the kitchen. Are we clear?"

The two reluctantly nodded, Jacob sulking away to the living room.

"But come on, that was kinda funny.." Embry whispered, making the other boys giggle.

Paul shook his head with a smile at his little brother, leaving the room to shower before dinner.

-

There was something about the conversation that stuck with Paul throughout the night. Since Sam had met Emily, all of his brothers wanted imprints. They all saw what it was like to have one up close, and craved it desperately. He grimaced at the thought. The idea of a "soulmate" sounded ridiculous to Paul.

The problem wasn't that he didn't believe in it. Anybody could see the intense love that imprints had for one another, their bond growing with them until old age.

But Paul was not familiar with the term love. He never did get to see the love between his father and mother. She had been his imprint, but passed long before Paul could remember much about her. He watched his father struggle emotionally, never being able to get through the grief of her loss. Sure, he raised Paul as best he could, but deep down it was his mother that would have filled the void in their quiet house.

Things did get a little brighter when Paul joined the pack. For the first time he truly felt like he was part of a real family. He came home to hot meals, genuine laughter, and lively conversation. Not only had he gained a group of brothers, but ones with unwavering loyalty. None of them ever strayed away when Paul lost control of his temper, and were the first ones to help him learn to control it.

Maybe that was the reason he never looked for anything serious when it came to women. What was the point? One little outburst and they were out the door quicker than they had come in. He didn't allow himself to feel anything for them, because they'd end up leaving, and he was saving himself the heart break anyways.

Paul lay awake that night certain about one thing, he didn't need an imprint.

-

You inhaled the crisp fall air. Smiling wide as you looked up the steps to the new home awaiting you, the patio adorned in different flowers and cutesy outdoor decor.

"Oh Em it's just how I remember. You always make it look so cozy," you said as you squeezed the arm of your cousin beside you.

She returned your same smile.

"You're too sweet. I just can't believe you're really here. Come on, I'll introduce you to the boys."

You followed her up the steps, walking through the door to the warm smell of baked goods, no doubt that Emily had been up all night. You chuckled to yourself as you remember how she would go overboard on food whenever she was excited about something and couldn't sleep.

What you weren't used to, however, was being greeted by the several shirtless men. All incredibly in shape with tattoos on their arms, you might have been intimidated if it weren't for their cheesy smiles.

Emily gestured to each of them,

"You remember Quil, and that's Embry, Jacob, Seth, andddd well," she looked around puzzled for a moment. "I guess I'll introduce you to Paul whenever he comes around."

You waved at Quil and shook the other's hands.

There must have been some sort of inside joke, because as you finished with introductions you saw Sam laugh while they collectively let out a small sigh.

You don't think you were meant to hear it, but you caught Sam whisper at Embry,

"Better luck next time kid."

Emily didn't make a big deal of whatever it was, guiding you to your room.

After you got settled in, you found yourself strolling the hallway, looking over all the framed pictures on the wall. You had been over the moon when Emily had found Sam. You've never seen her so happy before, and you could tell he looked at her in the exact same way.

Not paying attention when the bathroom door opened, you collided with a large bare chest that stepped into the hall.

You gasped as two strong arms to match caught you before you fell, luckily, and you embarrassingly faced the one man you of course had no former introduction with.

"I am so, so sorry. I-"

"No no it's fine, are you-"

Both of you started and stopped mid sentence. Your attention had been captured when you two locked eyes. It was like you had been anchored to the floor by them. This warm, fuzzy energy had your entire body buzzing. It was so silent that you could hear your own blood flow in your ears. You furrowed your eyebrows in the haze. What the hell...

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME??"

A loud voice cut through the trance and you flinched at the abrupt sound. The man held you slightly tighter for a moment, as if he was about to protect you from whatever had interrupted you both in this hypnotic state.

Turning around so you both could see that the voice had been Embry, the man looked back and quickly dropped his arms, as if he just realized he had been holding you that whole time.

An unfamiliar emptiness lingered when he let go. He quickly averted his gaze, mumbling another apology before brushing past you, into a room, shutting the door.

-

His imprint. Right there. In the hallway of his own home.

Paul couldn't breathe.

He sat on the edge of his bed, nervously running his hands through his hair in a panic.

You were beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Your smell was intoxicating and your skin was so, so very soft. Your voice sounded like an angel. Your hair-

No.

No, he couldn't let himself think like this. He didn't need an imprint. Didn't even want one in the first place.

Was this some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on him? This girl could have anyone she wants. Why him?

Emily's call for dinner had him taking deep breaths. He could do this. They could live amongst eachother and not have to talk. There's ton of people in this house, it would be rare that the two of them would ever be alone. Right? Right. He could do this.

He walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. Wake up. It's just some girl. No different than the many that he had been with. Hell, if he could have sex with someone and never think of them again, he could do it. They had barely exchanged a sentence. Barely touched. He would be fine.

-

You sat down at the table, trying to behave as normal as possible. What happened in the hall was nothing. Whiplash. Yes, it was probably the whiplash from running into him. The poor guy seemed shy, and he was most likely just as shook up as you. It was a small accident and nothing more. He certainly didn't seem angry or upset, just caught off guard.

But wow....was he handsome. Certainly more attractive than any lousy guy you'd ever been with. He had this aroma of sandalwood and forest that was enchanting.

Okay, slow down Y/N. Let's not walk in on the first day and jump on some guy. After all, you two are going to be living together. Maybe don't make him uncomfortable in his own home. You shook your head to yourself. Just forget about the whole thing and it will be fine.

Luckily, Emily had started conversations around the table, easily able to take your mind elsewhere.

That was, until he came in the room. There was a beat of silence when he entered, the other boys seeming to look at him like they were anticipating something. When he didn't make a sound or even look up to anyone, slumping at the table and taking a plate, the conversations arose again.

Dinner was excellent as usual for Emily's cooking, and besides your beating heart constantly begging you to look at the man near the end of the table, it was almost normal.

It was when Emily put delicious brownies on the table, that it took a turn for the worse.

"I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN. SHUT THE FUCK ALONE ABOUT IT" Everyone's head turned to the angry voice. It was him. He was so visibly upset that he was shaking, staring daggers at Embry beside him. Slamming his fists on the table as he stood up, you let an audible gasp slip.

That's when he looked at you for the second time that night. It was a far reach, but somehow you saw his eyes soften. The crinkles of anger in his eyebrows vanished, and he swallowed, before bolting out the door. Sam immediately followed, and Emily sighed, reaching out to touch your arm.

"I'm sorry about Paul. He's very.....expressive sometimes."

Paul.

-

"Leave me alone Sam."

Paul sighed through the mind link, his large wolf racing through the trees.

He didn't mean it. He never means it. But Embry would simply not stop talking. First it was meaningless. He asked what imprinting felt like. Paul had shrugged it off as nothing crazy, hoping he'd drop it there. Then, he had asked him if he planned on pursuing the imprint. Of course he told him he wasn't. He didn't need a soulmate. No matter what his instincts told him. But then, Embry had smiled and thanked him, telling him that you were now "fair game".

That had been when he lost it.

He stopped on the edge of a cliff, breathing in the fresh water air. Sam slowly approached his side.

"Embry only said that to get a rise out of you, you know."

Paul scoffed.

"He can do whatever he wants. I don't care about her."

"Oh you don't?" Sam didn't sound so convinced.

"Even if I did, she wouldn't want me. Did you....did you see the look on her face when I yelled?" Paul replayed it over and over. You had looked absolutely frightened.

"There is a reason she was chosen to be your imprint Paul. You don't know Y/N. She is patient, and most of all understanding. If you talked to her-"

"I don't need to talk to her. I am perfectly fine alone. I don't need a woman, and I definitely don't need an imprint."

Sam sighed.

"Paul. You can do what you want. I'm not the type of alpha to force you to love someone. But believe me when I say that I had a dark past. I was also comfortable with being alone. Emily is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Having a conversation with her doesn't mean there will be wedding bells tomorrow. All I'm saying is you don't know unless you try."

Paul nodded, and Sam left him with his thoughts.

-

You stared at the numbers on your phone screen. 2:00am. You huffed in frustration. Your mind had been a constant replay of the events today, your mind spiraling. You had settled on the fact things around here were weird, when you had visited Emily and accidentally caught sight of Sam in wolf form. But this energy couldn't have anything to do with that. Could it?

You decided to make yourself some tea to try and relax. Knowing Emily you knew there had to be some in the kitchen. You tip toed in the dark, your body stiffening as you recognized a familiar muscular back that sat at the kitchen table in a dim light.

You were ready to retreat back to your room when he turned his head around to look at you.

Damn, wolves must have good hearing.

"I was just....going to make some tea.." you pointed to the cabinet awkwardly.

He nodded, looking back down at what appeared to be a cup of coffee.

He couldn't sleep either?

You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the counter as you awaited the kettle, praying that if you stared at it long enough, it would speed up the process.

-

Fuck, was this torture. You were like a goddess, standing there in your pajamas, hair astray and up in a haphazard bun. He imagined walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, soaking in your warmth while he pressed gentle kisses on your neck. He wondered what it sounded like to hear you laugh...

STOP STARING. Say something. Anything. Just. Try.

He cleared his throat. It must have startled you because you quickly turned to face him.

"I'm...sorry. About what you saw earlier. That's not like me. I-Embry, he can get under my skin sometimes," he rubbed the back of his head.

"But that's no excuse. I'm-um, Im Paul, by the way."

He lifted his hand up in an almost wave. Why was he so awkward? He was never this way with women.

You giggled, and suddenly, he felt like he was in heaven.

"Y/N. And no worries at all, Emily said you can be....'expressive' sometimes."

He chuckled.

"That's one word for it. But I just don't want to scare you off..."

"Well. I think if knowing that you can all turn into a large creatures who can rip me apart and that doesn't scare me away, I think you were okay." You smiled. He could look at that smile forever.

-

He was actually talking to you. Man, was his laugh so perfect. You could talk with him forever.

The kettle screeched, and you reluctantly made your tea.

"Well....I guess I'll see you around, Paul." You took your mug and headed for your room.

-

His name on her tongue. He wanted her to say it again.

"You can stay. If-if you want. I, uh, I don't...know much about you."

You smiled.

"I'd like that."

To be continued......

#paul lahote #sam uley #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen #embry call #imagine #jacob black #new moon #quil ateara #eclipse #seth clearwater #emily young #breaking dawn #fanfiction #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #fiction

[britany1997]

hey bestie for requests i was thinking something with toxic/stalker/possessive paul with a reader he falls for love at first sight/pining for reader since he first saw them, whether that’s him getting jealous of someone at the boardwalk flirting with HIS partner (whether reader knows it or not yet) or reader hanging with friends and paul hates sharing the reader with anyone other than him or something like that. just super possessive paul sounds *chef’s kiss*. feel free to disregard if you don’t want to do this!

Every Breath You Take

Of course of course! Thought this would be a fitting first story for my return to writing:):) hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: stalker/yandere Paul, general yandere behavior, kidnapping, making out, light touching lol

Paul x fem! Reader

“He’s staring at you again,” the semi concerned words of your boyfriend came with a sharp elbow to the side. You catch the eyes of the same wild-haired blond man who seemed to pop up wherever you were.

Like always, your shared gaze didn’t last long as his blue eyes quickly flitted away. Yours narrowed, curious as to how he always seemed to know where you’d be.

“I’m sick of this asshole,” your boyfriend decides, rolling up his sleeves, “him and I are gonna have a conversation.” As he moved forward to walk towards the blond man you placed your hand on his chest, blocking him.

“Let’s not resort to violence,” you firmly suggested, “he’s not doing anything really he’s just…” you sucked in a breath, watching as the man pulled out a joint, not so subtly avoiding your eyes from afar, “watching.”

Your boyfriend scoffed, “you placate the weird kid you end up at the bottom of a lake.” Your nose scrunched in disgust. “What you didn’t see that Netflix doc babe?” He continued, “you never heard of Dahmer?”

You rolled your eyes, rolling your shoulder so his arm slid off, “you’re such a prick sometimes,” you mumbled.

Your boyfriend glared, “whatever, if I’m such a prick, why don’t you go be with that dude.” He gestured at the blue eyed man, who seemed to be trying (and failing) to pretend he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“In fact,” your boyfriend pulled his keys from his pocket, “maybe he can give you a ride home.”

“What the fuck? You’re really gonna be like this right now?” you shook your head at your boyfriend’s hysterics, “real nice babe.”

He shrugged, saluting you mockingly before turning and walking away, leaving you stranded on the boardwalk.

Your head fell into your hands, what an asshole.

You looked in the direction of that blond guy, maybe he could give you a ride home. All things considered, he did seem harmless…and he was even sorta handsome. But unfortunately for you, he was also gone.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling out your phone and clicking open the Uber app. You sighed. ‘This time I’m done with him,’ you thought to yourself, ‘no going back.’

“You sure?” A voice as smooth as silk purred over your shoulder, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

As you turned, your wide eyes bore into stunning blue ones. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t deny that deep down you’d always thought he was an attractive guy…but up close? He might as well have been Adonis.

Maybe he liked seeing you squirm because the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “You done with him baby? Want a real man? Hmm?” His honeyed voice lulled you into a trance. You gasped like a fish as you stared at his perfect face. You let him slip an arm around your shoulder.

But then your brow furrowed, your shoulder tensing under his grip. “But…I never said I was done with him… not out loud,” you mused, shooting him a confused look.

He huffed a quick laugh. “You musta been thinkin out loud sugar,” he winked, “was half way to my bike when I heard you say that, thought I’d come back and getcha, give ya a ride maybe?”

That sounded nice. Much nicer than walking home. And hey, this guy seemed fine, the only thing he’d ever done to you was hang around while you were at the boardwalk, and damn, it was a public place anyway.

You shrugged and let him lead you towards his motorcycle as his arm slipped from your shoulder to your waist.

As you settled into the seat in front of him, he smiled brightly. “Lucky I was here huh sugar? The breakers is a good five miles from here.”

As one of his hands slid around a handlebar and the other wrapped itself around your hip, you froze. “How do you know which apartment complex I live in?” You whispered, fear coursing through you.

You felt Paul’s grip on your hip tighten as his body tensed behind you. Then he relaxed, fingers drawing light circles on your hip bone. “Fuck babydoll, knew I’d mess this up.” You felt him lean in closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

You willed your body to run, scream, do anything, but you were petrified, held captive by your fear and this man’s firm, veiny hands.

“This might hurt,” he whispered into your ear before his teeth sunk into your neck.

You were awoken by the feeling of a hand running through your hair. You smiled softly, leaning into the touch as your eyes slowly opened.

The scene you’d expected to wake to, of your boyfriend lovingly stroking your locks, vanished as you were met with the same bright blue eyes of the man from the boardwalk.

“Oh good you’re awake,” he smiled his terribly beautiful smile, the sight of it now making you sick.

You tensed and tried to pull away before realizing the blond man had your left wrist handcuffed to the bed.

“Just a precaution for now,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “when you can show me you can be a good girl for me, I’ll take it off.” He promised, almost gently.

You whimpered as you began to feel tears threatening to spill.

Paul softened, “no baby don’t cry,” he managed to gather you up in his arms, your cuffed hand hanging awkwardly from the bed as he cradled you.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised, “I’ll spoil you, hold you, love you, whatever you want.” He buried his face into the nape of your neck and inhaled deeply. “I wanted to do this right, honest!” He told you, “but you’re so damn smart babydoll, you figured it all out so I just had to take ya.”

You sucked in a breath, fighting to hold back your tears as the blond man rambled desperately.

“It’s Paul by the way,” he tells you, “but you can call me anything you want sugar, whatever makes you happy,” I seductive smirk played on his lips, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to call me daddy.”

You cringed.

“Not there yet? Ok baby” Paul’s grip on you tightened, you could feel his freezing skin pressed against every part of you.

Your heart rate raced at his touch and he sighed. “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you babydoll,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck once more. “I’ll be so sweet to you.”

“You bit me,” your quiet voice whimpered, “that hurt.” You reminded him.

Paul sighed, “I know sugar, I won’t ever bite you again…unless you want me to of course,” he promised, purring the last part into your ear.

You squeaked.

His hand moved to caress your cheek as he titled your gaze up to his. “I’ll be so good to you baby I promise. I’ll treat you like a princess.” His thumb rubbed against your cheek as his eyes softened with a boyish sweetness and adoration. “You’re so cute, and soft, and human.” He spoke almost absentmindedly, smiling as he touched you.“I’ll give you anything you want sugar, anything.” He whispered, his voice laced with desperation.

“You always looked so tired when you came home from work,” Paul continued, stroking your hair while he spoke. “Used to get so worried about bills…about everything. I can take care of you baby don’t you see? You’ll never have to worry about anything here, all you gotta worry ‘bout is lookin pretty f’me.” He kissed your cheek.

“Fuck, that shouldn’t be too hard for ya huh baby? You’re always so damn pretty for me,” his eyes clouded with hunger as he looked at you. “I’m gonna be so good to you babydoll” he repeated, his voice dripped with honey as he nipped at your neck.

You gasped at the sensation of him licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. The same sensation that had terrified you moments ago, now had you squirming with pleasure in Paul’s lap.

While you sunk into the feeling of his mouth on your skin, his hand found it’s way to the hem of your shirt. It snaked under to rub gentle circles on your stomach, sneaking higher with every caress.

You mewled in delight. Paul’s touch blew your boyfriend’s out of the water. To him, pleasure had been a game, to Paul, pleasure was an art.

You snapped back to reality when you felt Paul hardening against you in his lap.

Your eyes flew open as you remembered where you were, as you remembered the cuff around your wrist. This wasn’t right.

“W-wait,” you managed to whimper out, pushing his chest back as you did. “This is all a little much right now,” you said hesitantly, bracing yourself for Paul’s reaction.

His gaze softened, “course sugar, don’t wanna push ya.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips before detangling himself from the bed and kneeling in front of you. “Do you want something to eat baby?” He asked, his pretty blue eyes full of adoration.

You nodded, blushing under his loving gaze.

“What do ya want sugar? I can get you anything,” He offered.

Your brow furrowed as you struggled to decide what you wanted.

Paul stopped you, “I’m sorry baby, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll pick for you, just relax ok? I can make all your choices for you sweetheart.”

With that, he flashed you a boyish grin and took off to get you something to eat.

Once he was gone, you leaned back against the bed frame and sighed. Your free hand moved to your neck, feeling around where Paul had bit and kissed you. Electricity coursed through you at the memory.

You looked around the little cave Paul had you in. The walls were plastered with posters of heavy metal bands and all around the room there were crates filled to the brim with records. A collection that must have taken decades to amass, you realized.

The room actually looked decently clean, you had thought. Until you’d looked a little harder and noticed clothes and leftover pizza boxes poking out from underneath the bed. You smiled to yourself, he’d tried.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized it might not be so bad to have such a devilishly handsome man so hopelessly devoted to you. Your job was exhausting, and you were always stressed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone take care of you, God knows your boyfriend…your ex boyfriend, never had.

And Paul had been so sweet, so gentle, so loving with you. You hated to admit it, but you’d loved the way he touched you. And you found yourself wondering how long it would be till he’d touch you again.

You bit your lip at the thought. How could something wrong, feel so right?

‘Maybe this isn’t so bad,’ you thought to yourself as Paul walked through the entrance to his room with an armful of Chinese takeout boxes.

So when he flashed you his signature bright smile, you allowed yourself to smile back.

Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @lostboys1987girl @arenpath @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @arbesa-mind @warrior-616 @f4iryfxies @rynsfandomsfun @katerinaval @consuming-karma

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys #lost boys fic #the lost boys fic #lost boys paul #paul fic #paul the lost boys #yandere #yandere fic #yandere Paul #yandere vampire #vampires #tlb #tlb paul #lost boys 1987 #fem reader #Paul x fem reader #yandere Paul x fem reader #human fem reader

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (SERIES) Part 20

Something to Fight For Chapter 20 Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. Loves of cheese. Extra cheese with a side of cheese. Love and more love. Happy ending. All the happy shit.

masterlist here

a/n: Ya'll this feels so strange. Even though the epilogue is on its way sometime soon, writing this chapter felt very final. Its a bittersweet feeling. After this story I won't have all of us together again. It's been a journey for us all, hasn't it? You've felt like real friends, caring for this story I invented. Sorta surreal, huh? And I TOLD YA'LL THE ANGST LED TO A HAPPY ENDING. I really hope that if you've never left a review, you decide to do so on this chapter. I also hope if you have left reviews before, you do so now. Detailed ones, ones where you tell me your favorite part cuz It was so beautiful to write, but it was also hard. I feel like I'm sayin' goodbye to a part of me. Also, SMUT WARNING. Sorry, I am not a smut writing professional. It's just sorta the icing there on Bill's cupcake. It doesn't come naturally to me, but these two deserved i t don't you think? I love ya'll. See you in the epilogue.

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Joel is finishing up watering the front lawn when he hears a car coasting down his street. He doesn't pay it any mind, turning off the spigot and heading towards his front door. 

He's thinking about you. How warm you felt curled against him this morning. How your puffy eyes and gentle smile makes his heart sing even now. He wipes his damp hands on the back of his jeans. 

You must be breaking things off with Paul, right? Joel saw the ring box. He saw your bare finger. 

And your eyes, your eyes said so much. Even as he was leaving he saw the dueling emotions there. The quiet anxiety from your mom's incoming call mingling with the open desire to have Joel stay. He felt it coming off of you in waves. 

He would have. He would do anything you wanted. 

He'd help you build that sanctuary with his own bare hands. He'd move you box by box into his home tomorrow if you gave the word. He'd hold you every night and make love to you every morning if that's what you said you needed.

He'd even figure out how to travel back and forth from home to Chicago and Austin for the next six months without it disrupting Sarah's life too much, if it's not a permanent move on your end. A combination of odd weekend visits and daily phone calls seems manageable. He'd even learn how to text properly. He doesn't want you back in Chicago, but he'd do it. He will continue to fight for you.

He needs to tell you this, he decides. He needs to spell it out. The word love was sputtered last night, without thought. But he needs to say it with clear eyes and your body against his. He needs you to know exactly what he's offering. He'll call to see if you’re free before the wedding to talk.

This can't wait. 

He pulls the front door open, his hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He hopes you answer. 

"Joel!"

He spins in the door frame, his eyes widening. It's you. You're here, pulling yourself from the driver’s side of a car he doesn't recognize.

You're wearing some green dress that has far too many bows but Joel doesn't give a shit, all he can think is it's you it’s you and your here for him. You have a blazing look in your eyes, sharp and focused all on him as you march to his front door.

He feels a pull at his abdomen, a delicious sensation because there's no indecision in you anymore. It's there written in your face: you want Joel. You're here for him, to claim him. 

Because he's wanted. 

Joel feels a smile break over his face, his teeth a slab of white against the tan of his face that has you laughing and sobbing in equal measure. He steps away from the door because you're running to him the rest of the way, your face breaking into a smile as you launch yourself into Joel's arms. 

"Honey-"

He doesn't get another word out because you've launched yourself into his chest, circling your arms around his neck. He grunts as your body collides with his and grips you in surprise. He holds fast to you against him, staring down at your tear-streaked face.  

And then you're gripping his face, pulling it to meet yours. Kissing him with a ferocity that he's not expecting but is oh so responsive to. There on his doorstep you kiss him, your mouth hot and needy as Joel kisses you back, pulling you against him before panting as brings you inside the house, almost carrying you over the threshold. 

You're frantic, needing to touch and kiss and make up for lost time. To show him through your passion just how much you've missed him, how much he means to you. He's still got you in his strong arms, his hands skating down your back. Your hands are coming to his collar, desperate for him to press you against the wall as he did not so long ago at your place. 

Whoa slow down.

You need to talk. To get things right. You break apart from Joel slowly, your mouth reddened. Joel smiles so widely you're concerned he might pull a face muscle.

"Too much?"

You shake your head as he begins lowering your feet to the floor.

"Not enough."

Then the silence descends as he stares at you. Joel has this uncanny ability to remain so still he almost looks static. His fingers drag the strand of  hair caught on your damp lips, but his finger stays at your cheek, frozen. The moment feels heavy, thick with tension and you second guess everything.  

Maybe now is a bad time. This seems like one of those things a person does when they look and feel perfect. And you don't. You're sweaty and dressed ridiculously and you're pretty sure your hair still has grass in it. 

Joel seems to sense your indecision and responds by reaching out his broad hand and taking yours. You immediately relax, the warmth of his grip guiding you to the kitchen. 

You look up his arm, your eyes sliding to his strong profile and his full mouth as he leads you. He feels your eyes on him and he turns, smiling sweetly. 

I love this man.

His hand presses you gently into the seat at the kitchen table, urging you to relax into it. You look up at him and hold in a sigh when he traces a forefinger along your cheek again. 

"I'll be back in a sec."

He leaves the room and for a moment you sit there in the kitchen of so many memories you feel so incandescently happy that it brings tears to your lash line. Coloring with Sarah. Decorating cupcakes. Joel's dinner, the dropped salad. Laughter, tears, so much is just in this single room of the house. 

Joel reappears seconds after you wipe the tears away. He sits across from you, his broad shoulders flexing as he places something on the table. 

He clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes to meet yours and now suddenly he looks nervous. This makes your anxiety flood your senses, starting to creep up your spine.  

Then you realize the time. How Joel is dressed. How you’re dressed for fucks sake. The wedding is only a few hours away and Sarah is probably still getting ready. Why did you think now was the best time? This is something you should have done when you could take your time, not rush. You’d just been so excited to see him, to tell him.

"Shit I'm sorry. You're probably still getting Sarah ready," you say wincing and preparing to stand. "We can talk about this later, tomorrow or -"

Joel raises his hand in your direction, just his palm between you, stilling your ascent. His eyes are troubled by your reaction. 

"Stop. Honey, just sit there a moment, please." 

Honey.

How is it that words or nicknames that sound so trite coming from other people sound so perfect coming from Joel? You nod, planting yourself back into the chair and taking a deep breath.

"Tommy took Sarah about an hour ago. Maria wanted her to get her hair done with the bridesmaids, a little something special for being the flower girl."

You smile. That sounds like Maria. 

"I was just getting ready here, but I got time." Joel's eyes tell you he's sincere, that he always has time for you. And then suddenly he's so earnest. "I'm real glad you're here."

"Me too."

"Be lyin' if I said I haven't been thinking about you since I left."

"Same here."

"Yeah?"

You nod and Joel's face is like the sun breaking through clouds. But in life rain always does fall, and as if just remembering this, Joel's face tenses. That familiar tic in his jaw is back at he gazes at you. 

"Paul?"

"Gone. Done. Over."

You spare him the details. You have a feeling if Joel knew even a hint of what went on today he would personally drive over to Paul's house and finish what Bill started. And you don't want that. Right now you just want this happy, hopeful joyful warmth. 

Joel swallows and you can see he needs the clarity. To know that he's not imagining this. "This a permanent thing or-"

“I called off the engagement," you explain plainly. "I couldn't marry him. I couldn't be with him. Ever. Not when I feel how I do about you."

Joel tries to hide the smile, but it blooms all over his face all the same. His mouth curls, his eyes squint and you have to physically restrain yourself from leaping across the table and kissing him senseless. 

You think he's going to ask you to explain in more detail. To tell him exactly what you mean about how you feel about him. But his eyes are on the pink paper at his elbow. Joel taps it with a forefinger before sliding it towards you, his eyes on your face. As it approaches you see it's an envelope. 

"Open it up," Joel tells you softly, even though you can see that this envelope has been opened and closed a multitude of times, creased and folded.

You open it with shaking hands, unsure of what to expect inside. He wrote you a letter? When? Large crooked letters greet you. 

"Joel I wunt u to bee my Vallentane. I love Sarah. I love you. I wint to be yr wife. LOVE - "

You read your name aloud, your eyes flicking to his. "What is this?"

"You don't recognize it?" Joel taps the card with a forefinger. A familiar Snoopy sticker greets you and suddenly your face breaks into a confused smile. 

The Valentine that Sarah had made all those months ago, the one she'd insisted you personally give to her father. 

“Sarah…”

"When I asked her about it the next morning she said that you had written it." 

You laugh out loud in disbelief at the shrewdness of Sarah. Joel chuckles along with you. 

"She loves you. She thinks you hang the moon," Joel drawls. 

"The feeling is mutual," you say with a soft smile.

"You're wanted in this house, in this family," Joel says motioning to the letter. "You make us better."

You weren't expecting this. You actually can't speak. 

Joel is thinking, clearly displayed in the lines between his brows, the way his dark eyes scan in front of him as if he's trying to recall something very specific. After a moment you sober, closing the card because you need to say it before you lose your nerve. You need to tell him everything.

"Joel -"

"I'm in love with you," Joel tells you bluntly, beating you to it. "Have been for a while. Thought it was kinda obvious but I'm realizing you're a woman that may need things said out loud a couple times before she believes them. So just to be sure there's no misunderstanding, I'm tellin' you plainly as I can: I love you. I don't want anyone else. I just want you."

The sound of Joel telling you he loves you may just be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Better than any song. Even the one he sang to you. He reaches across the table to take your hands in his.

It makes your eyes water and a smile to break out over your features. It also creates a knot in your throat, making it impossible to speak. But that might be for the best because Joel is still going. 

"And I don't just love you because of how you love my daughter, though I'd be lying if I said that didn't have some part in it," Joel admits. "I just don't remember the last time I wanted someone to share my day with or wake up next to as much as I do with you. I go to sleep thinkin' about you. I drive by a shitty Italian restaurant and I think about you. I see a fucking dog at job site I'm working and I think about you. Something happens to me and it's you I wanna talk to about it."

You want to believe these words, you want to believe them so badly but then just as your heart starts to glow, something holds you back. Something that always seems to grip those threads of joy only to slice through them. An ugly, twisting thing that makes you wince and curl into yourself when you remember what Paul said. When you think about your phone call with your father earlier. How can you be so happy when you’ve just been so cruel?

Selfish.

Joel's eyes scan your face, immediately picking up on your agitation. He drops your hands and your eyes slide closed because suddenly you feel so weak. Your head drops forward and all the good feeling, the sweet burst of joy is gone, leaving you drained.

"Honey."

His voice is so tender, so gentle. He's there at your side within seconds, kneeling beside your chair. He's gripping you loosely by the waist, the other hand cupping your face. 

"I can tell right now that you're having trouble hearing this because somewhere along the way you were taught you didn't deserve to be loved," Joel says, his eyes searching your face. "And you're wantin’ to tell me you're a horrible, selfish person. And that I should just forget about you."

He knows. He knows my worst self. He knows everything.

You feel so vulnerable but his eyes are blazing so brightly right now you can't look away. 

"But I'm never gonna do that," Joel says, his thumb grazing along your cheekbone. "'Cuz I think you're the best thing to happen to me since Sarah was born. And if I have to spend my whole life convincing you of that, I will. I will fight every fucking day because what we have is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for."

If falling in love had a specific moment it would be this one. Joel Miller, all muscles and wet eyes staring up at you as he kneels at your side promising you a love and life you could only dream of. 

"So that's all I wanted to say," Joel finishes with eyes so luminous you could cry. "I love you. Be with me. Just... just let me fucking love you."

His last sentence makes your heart seize. You're so overcome you can't speak right away. Instead you slide off the chair to join him on the floor, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and embracing him, head balanced on his shoulder. 

Joel reciprocates immediately, pulling you against him tightly. There you sit with arms around each other as Joel rocks you. This moment, this deep serenity works its way through your tight muscles and increment by increment you go boneless against him. 

I love him.

With a tremble you pull back. It's still too overwhelming to look at him directly so you just balance your forehead against his, the two of you breathing deeply. You breathe slowly, you matching Joel’s steady tempo.

I love him so much.

And then finally you tilt back from him, needing to see the warmth of his dark brown eyes. He's there, present, his eyes fixed on yours. 

"I want a cat."

Joel nods without thinking before his face contorts into surprise and then confusion.

"Wait, what?"

"A kitten, actually," you decide. "An orange one. Sarah was saying she wants a kitten anyway. "

A grin has broken over Joel's face. It makes him look younger, his entire disposition vibrant. It matches yours. His hands are coming to cup each of your cheeks. 

"Anything you want," Joel breathes. "Anything."

You smile, no, you beam up at him. You can tell him. You can. You can trust Joel to hold your secrets and not hate you. You can trust Joel with your love because it doesn’t come with receipts or price tags or debts to be owed. Your love for him will be cherished, not a ransom so you can be plucked apart piece by piece.

"I came here because I needed to tell you in person that I'm not going to Chicago," you say with a tensing inhale. "I spoke to my dad today."

Joel's thumb is stroking your cheek and for the first time since you've entered into his home, he looks scared. His dark eyes are suddenly pensive and you can see the way the wheels are turning. You’re confused by this reaction.  

"Don't do this for me," he murmurs. "I can't be the reason. Even if I want it more than anything. You'd resent me if you did."

"I didn't," you promise him. "I did it for me. I did it because I want to be happy. I don’t want that life back in Chicago. And I did it because I can't go another day without you, Joel."

Hope blooms there in the dark brown earth of his eyes. It grows beautiful and brilliant but under glass. It's too good to be true; he's so eager, so desperate but past experience has humbled him. 

"Waking up in your arms this morning was one of the best feelings in the entire world," you explain with open honesty. "I want that every morning. I want to have coffee with you and go to the park with Sarah. I want to read her to bed every night and then crawl in next to you. I wanna make pancakes on Sundays and go to trivia nights with you and Maria and Tommy. I want a life with you."

Joel's heart is rapid and staccato the more you spill forth because what you're saying sounds dangerously close to what Joel desires. Is it possible? 

"I'm absolutely crazy about you, Miller," you confess without hesitation now, wanting to take the tentative insecurity from his gaze. "I'm done pretending I don't want you. I'm tired of not holding you. I'm tired of being away from you and Sarah. I want a family with you, I want a future. I want it all but I only want it with you. I-I love you Joel."

The smile is broad on his handsome face, bringing out the dimple that makes your heart hiccup. 

"Really?"

"Yeah." 

He's got a forefinger tilting your chin so you face up to him. 

"No runnin'?"

"Only to you." 

That does something to Joel. Like a snap to his spine. Only to him. Because he's yours and when your lips press against his it's like every wall that exists comes tumbling down, shattering spectacularly. 

You’re his.

It's here, its happening. He's so grateful, so overcome he can't hold it in. 

It's only when you feel damp warmth against your cheek that your eyes fly open. You see another tear slip down Joel's cheek, his eyes still closed as he kisses you tenderly and you feel something within you burst. 

You didn't expect to be crying but here you are, sniffling with hot tears slipping your face. Joel is all glassy eyed trying to wipe your tears from your cheeks as you do the same for him, both your thumbs gliding over each other's cheekbones.

"What a pair," Joel says with a sniffle. 

You both give big watery laughs at this, giggling like you had only a day ago as you walked down the aisle. His thumb is lingering along your lower lip when the laughter slowly ebbs.  

Then his face is tilting towards you and you don't have to turn away. Because there is no Paul, no Tess. Because Joel is taking something for himself and so are you. 

Mine.

Your lips join once more, your eyes falling shut as he brings you back into his arms, sighing against you. He rocks you slowly in his arms, moving his mouth to your temple and murmuring sweet nothings, promises, loving verse. 

Slowly you tilt your head back, your heavy lidded gaze on his. Your eyes trail over his mouth, then back to see him watching you intently. His dark eyes flicker in understanding. His mouth is on yours once more for a scorching kiss and then Joel is standing, holding a wide hand to you. 

You take it without hesitation, rising to your feet and walking hand in hand to the bedroom. You smile softly at each other as he gently pushes the door open and as he does all you can think is that you're finally here with him in his bedroom properly. 

He looks nervously around, as if he’s expecting everything to fall to pieces.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That I wish I’d cleaned the fucking room.”

You see the bedroom through his eyes now and hold in a chuckle. The scattered clothes on the ground, the belts slung over the treadmill in the far left of the room, the bed haphazardly made. The empty water glasses on the nightstand, the CD’s scattered atop the dresser.  

“I can work with this,” you assure him, giggling nervously as he leads you to the bed. He assures you with relief that the sheets are clean before you both sit at the edge of his bed. His hand is on your knee, thumb tracing small circles on the soft inner, leading to your thigh.

You watch this hypnotized, breathing unsteadily when his hand begins to drift upwards, under your skirt. He says your name once, seeing the uncertainty in your features. When you don’t reply he says it again, and now you glance up at him. His brows raise, a silent question. What’s wrong?

"I'm scared," you whisper, your mind suddenly going over everything that could go wrong with this relationship. 

What if you break up? What if Joel turns? What if you run again? It feels too good, too perfect already and time has taught you not to trust the calm times. Time has taught you that calm times come before tidal waves. That calm times are a harbinger of greater carnage.

"Me too." Joel kisses the corner of your mouth. “But I got you, baby.”

You nod, still pensive, even though the pull below your navel is debilitating at this point. Joel urges your gaze to his, seeing the lowering of your lids and the gentle shuddering of you. You can see him there, thick and waiting in his jeans.

“We could wait until tonight,” Joel offers, grazing your arm with his knuckles. “Or tomorrow.  Hell, I’ll wait as long as you need. I just want you here is al-”

No. You don’t want to wait. You need Joel in a way you’ve never needed anyone.

“I can’t wait,” you inform him before the sentence leaves his mouth. You’re on your knees on the bed, your body pressed against his as your mouth tilts towards him.

“Well alright then,” Joel chuckles, his hands going to either side of your neck, his thumbs resting on the architecture of your jaw. You melt into his kiss, your hands gripping his shirt by the front.

Joel shifts back against the headboard, bringing you along with him to straddle his thighs. He kisses you languidly, slowing your frenetic motions. He can feel your movements, quick and sharp like a hummingbirds as you kiss him, tongue sliding between the seam of his soft lips. He pulls back gently, amused.

“We got time, baby,” he breaths against your trembling mouth. “Don’t have to rush anything.”

For some reason that hits you directly below the navel. The knowledge that Joel wants to take his time with you. No rushing, just the lazy pursuit of mutual pleasure. It’s so opposite to what you know of sex.

He's tender, his movements slow, his touches light. But that's not what you want right now. You want to feel it, more heavy tactile reality that this is happening, your body with his. You're straddling him, licking into his mouth as he holds your thighs, his mouth moving over yours as he groans. 

I want to take care of him.

Joel has spent so much of your time together taking care of you – doctor’s appointments, kennels, that night of the Christmas party . . . Joel is always looking out for others and you want to take care of him for once.  It’s not expected or forced upon you, it’s got you slick between the thighs just thinking about it.

“Take my dress off,” you whisper. Joel’s hands come to the hem of your dress with zero hesitation and he peels the unflattering dress from you, lifting it up over your arms stretched high over your head. It’s tossed gently to the other side of the room, making a soft flutter as it descends. You sit astride Joel’s lap in nothing but your lacy green underwear that you’d bought specifically for the wedding.

No bra, you’d decided. The dress fit better without it. Seeing Joel’s eyes darken you’re so fucking glad you decided on that.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, mouth coming to circle your left nipple without pause. You moan into his mouth, feeling as his hands span your middle back, pushing you into his greedy mouth. You feel him grinding against your core, his jeans rasping against the gusset of your panties.

“Clothes off, Miller.”

He grins up at you, shimmying out of his jeans, kicking them down his legs as you bracket above him. You take your time pulling the shirt over his head, marvelling at how he looks as he disrobes. His skin is gold, his body a mixture of strength of softness. His hair tousled his mouth full and parted. He looks delicious.

You see his eyes snap back to your bare chest, getting ready to claim another straining nub between his teeth when you pull back, smiling. He tilts his head curiously as you begin backing up, sliding your body down his.

He’s breathing shallowly, quickly as your cheek brushes past his boxers, grazing his length there. He gives a sharp grunt, watching as you pull down his boxers, releasing his cock with a spring. You tug them off completely, tossing the boxers over your shoulder with a flourish before nestling yourself between his legs and admiring the rosy head of his cock.

Like you said. Joel Miller looks delicious.

You trail a finger along his length, fascinated by the rigid yet silken texture. It twitches at the contact. You smirk up at him from between his legs, your pupils blown wide at the view. 

Joel is so fucking sexy. Laid back, legs tilted to give you space to lay between them, his cock is there waiting for your mouth and this time it’s happening. No distractions, no delays. You have been aching to get your mouth on him. You dip your head forward, eyes closed as your mouth brushes the head. You hear Joel give a low gasp, thighs twitching.

"You don't have to do this," Joel moans, even as you give kitten licks along the tip.  You smile as his fingers brush your cheek, sweet and affectionate.  

Your mouth moves over the head, flicking with your tongue and then taking it into the wet warmth of your mouth. You begin to suck, delicately at first, just enough to hear the first shuddering groan from Joel.

Joel Miller is a giver. Joel Miller doesn't know what it is to take from the people he loves, to have something for himself, a secret treasure of only his. But you'll show him and starting now because you have so much you want to give to him. If you could carve out your heart and carry on living you would do it, present it to him to safeguard.

"You don't have-"

You pull your mouth off of him slowly, watching him quiver. His eyes are open and he's looking down the length of his body to see you. 

"Joel, I love you but please shut the fuck up and let me do this," you say fake crossly, wet lower lip grazing his tip. "Just let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

Joel's eyes are glossy. "Say it again," 

"Shut the fuck up?"

His head jerks so slightly you're not sure you caught it. "No. The other thing."

You smile slyly before your flattened tongue slides from base to tip, your eyes on him the entire time. "Let me make you feel good?"

"The- the other-"Joel makes a strangled groaning noise and you move over the head again, kissing gently as it twitches before taking in his thickness deep into your warm mouth once more. 

As you lay there between his legs in the bed you're struck by the realization that you feel so relaxed. The bed is warm and Joel is warm and when you hear his groans you feel so impossibly good. 

You shut your eyes and just feel and taste and enjoy Joel. You've never wanted to do this for a man so much. Never wanted to take your time and explore them like this. With Joel every piece of him feels sacred, every part of him worthy of your intimate attention and every time he lets out a little moan or grunt you feel yourself grow giddy. You love making him feel good. 

Joel is squirming, his grunts hitting you right at your core. He can't think now, his entire body poised. Your mouth feels so fucking good, he needs more of it. 

Joel never thought that a blowjob could feel loving, but this does. He lays there watching you; your eyes shut so softly, mouth moving achingly slow around him. It feels tender, it's you wanting to take care of him, sweet and soft and oh fuck ... Joel feels his breath come out in a shudder. You feel so fucking good around him. Too good. 

Your hands are palm flat on his thighs, bracing there as you take more of him into your mouth, sighing happily and hollowing your cheeks. Before long you can hear the sound of him whimpering. Soft, gravely whimpers that make you feel heady because you're making Joel fucking Miller whimper. 

"Don't wanna finish in your mouth, baby," he rumbles, pressing your cheek gently. "Not tonight."

You understand, pulling gently off of him. Without pausing you crawl the length of him, coming to rest in his arms beside him. He pulls you flush against his chest, your hips meeting. He’s breathing in soft pants and you can feel him hard against your thigh your own lower half aching with need for him. 

He stares at you for a long time, a curiously long time considering what you'd just been in the middle of doing. His eyes are warm and open as he takes in how your face looks flushed and needy. Yet it's you who says it. 

"You're beautiful."

Joel immediately feels himself flush at your compliment. A guy being beautiful? He's never been called beautiful, and it makes him feel shy. You notice the shy way he looks away, tips of his ears pinking. 

"No," you insist, gripping his face in your hands. "Don't. I love looking at your face. Your beautiful, perfect face."

He smiles, all teeth and dimple which sets your heart racing. He props his head up with one hand, the other going to the back of your neck. He holds you there, one thumb stroking the side of your neck as he stares at you.

As you lay there, face tilted into Joel’s pillow you smile, inhaling gently. The scent of his shampoo and just him. It makes you feel calm, but it also makes you pull a face, cringing as you recall something from months ago. Joel can see it immediately in your face, his own features turning concerned.

"What?"

“Nothing.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on you even with yours closed.  You give an embarrassed smile. "Promise not to laugh?"

"No."

You bark out a surprised laugh, drawing an amused chuckle from Joel. You love making him smile like that, in that unguarded, playful way.  

"Never mind then," you say with a smug smirk, rolling away from him.

"C'mon," he needles you, nose brushing against your neck to tickle, drawing you back to face him again. "Don't be like that. No secrets."

He says it smiling, but you hear that underline in the last sentence. No secrets. No, you don't want any between you either. 

“It’s just a bit embarrassing.”

“I don’t mind,” Joel insists. “I’ll trade you an embarrassing story for yours.”

“You go first.”

“Once when I was eight I got caught stealing baseball cards from one of my friends at school. My mom got called down to the school and I had to apologize in front of everyone.” Joel looks so sheepish recalling this memory you want to laugh.

“Joel that’s barely embarrassing,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Ah ah, deals a deal,” Joel insists, gently tilting your chin so you face him. You sigh.

"Fine. It’s stupid. It's just. . . Back before, when you and I weren't together. . ." You trail off, this story not feeling funny anymore. If anything it makes you sad. 

"What?" Joel looks nervous. "Tell me."

"I snuck in here one time when I was babysitting,” you say in a rush, eyes closed. “And I uh, touched myself on your bed."

Joel looks like he's been electrocuted. He physically jerks. "What?"

You feel yourself going beet red all the way to your roots. Why did this seen like a good story too share? It's humiliating. You pull the sheets over your head, your voice coming out muffled. 

"I told you it was embarrassing!" 

"Jesus Christ," Joel growls. "You were touching yourself in my bed?"

You're silent under the sheets, your breathing unsteady. You'd expected him to laugh at you or even pity you. Neither is happening. His voice drops an octave. 

"Did you come?"

Your toes curl at the husky tinge in his voice. You're powerless when you feel him dragging the sheets down your face, exposing your face to him. His eyes are like furnaces, desire licking the edges. 

"Did you?" 

"Mhmm," you manage. 

"Show me," he rasps and it's like you're back in the kitchen, hands down your pants as Joel begs you to touch yourself for him. You feel him peeling off your panties under the sheets, rolling your hips so that he can remove them entirely.

"Please baby," Joel whispers, kissing your shoulder. Then he pauses to kiss you gently, so gently, reverently on the mouth, eyes searching yours. 

"But only if you want." 

Joel doesn't want what you won't give him freely. He has no desire to take and take like Paul and James. And because of this you want to give him everything. 

And so you nod, flushing when Joel removes the blankets from your body leaving your naked body tingling and exposed to the cool air.

He makes a  low sound in the back of his throat. He takes your hand gently in his, raising it to his mouth. You think he means to kiss you knuckles when his pillowy lips circle your fore and middle finger. Not breaking eye contact he sucks them into his wet, warm mouth, trailing his tongue over your digits, coating them in his spit. 

Satisfied, Joel drags them from his mouth, urging the damp digits along the seam of your throbbing pussy and gently pushing inside. You whimper at the contact, your eyes stuck on his as you begin to work your fingers on either side of your clit. You don't look away from Joel as you do. You simply flush under his heated gaze, your toes curling as you moan at the sensation of not only touching yourself, but by being watched by Joel as you do. He's thick and aching as he watches you but he makes no attempt to touch himself.

He rests his palm over yours loosely. He's not guiding, not moving, he wants to feel you touching yourself, wants to learn what turns you on. 

"I can't believe you're real," he whispers as you begin to rock against your hand. "So fucking perfect."

You're not perfect. Your body has flaws, many that you could point out to him. But when Joel looks at you, dark eyes melting along your curves you know he believes what he says. 

He removes his hand from over top yours, wanting to just watch you. He memorizes the way your lower lip quivers, the way your brows saddle as you stroke yourself. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

"What were you thinking about when you did it?" Joel asks you huskily. 

"You," you murmur, eyes lazily closed as your fingers work between your thighs. You can feel his eyes on you, raking over every part of your body.

"Yeah?" You can hear the smile in his voice. You both already knew the answer, but his ego likes hearing it out loud. 

"Fucking you," you groan, fingers working hurriedly over the pearl of your clit. "Your mouth, fuck your mouth is so sexy Joel."

Joel's (very sexy) mouth moves over your nipple, kissing there. His eyes are on you as he does. 

"And your tongue," you whisper, arching further into his mouth. 

His tongue laves at your straining nub, his teeth coming to graze and then gently nibble. That sends electric currents running through your entire body, your legs jerking out without thought or control.

Then he pulls back, his eyes roaming your flushed and naked body. Your eyes crack open to see him; mouth parted and fixed on your face as you squirm. You whimper his name, the taste of it sweet. He drops his head forward to kiss you, a tender thing. 

"C'mon baby," Joel urges against your temple. "Show me how you made yourself come on my sheets."

You cannot form words. When Joel talks like that, filthy and low and growled it hits directly between your legs. You can offer only a symphony of grunts and mewls and whimpers and you feel your entire body tighten and then blissfully release.

"Oh that's it," Joel murmurs lazily as he watches you come. "Oh fuck. ... Yeah baby... Just like that... All for me."

Always for you, you want to tell him. But you're too far gone, the bliss overwhelming you. And finally you come, coating your fingers as your head is thrown back into the pillow. 

Before you can say anything, Joel is between your legs, gently prying them apart. You make a surprised noise as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you to him. You watch as his fingers part you.

"Fuck if I'd known," Joel murmurs, licking a stripe up your pussy. He doesn't finish the thought, simply begins to kiss your cunt with wild, open mouthed kisses that have you arching back into the bed.

"Joel I -"

"C'mon baby," he groans, sucking on your clit languidly. "My mouth and my tongue remember? Be good and come on 'em now."

Jesus Christ. You’re already there. Already so close when he sucks your clit into his mouth, humming in delight as your thighs tremble around his head. And its only seconds when you feel yourself cresting. He feels it too, making encouraging humming noises as his hands come to hold you in place, spanning over your lower abdomen.

And then you feel your entire body release against his tongue, punching out groans as he laps between your legs, murmuring how good you taste, how much he’s missed your pussy, how he can’t believe how lucky he is.

You murmur his name, arms outstretched in his direction. He crawls to you, up the length of your naked body pressing glossy o’s on your exposed flesh as he ascends. Then his face gets near and you can see his eyes are unfocused. You sigh softly as his mouth finds yours. 

He kisses you long and slow, his tongue dancing with yours. It's not long before you feel his free hand sliding down from your neck, over your straining nipple, along your lower belly and then coming to cup your sex softly. 

You let out a small choked noise when his fingers slide down the seam, parting you. Brushing against your aching core. 

"Want you inside me," you urge, impatiently, his mouth still moving over yours. Joel chuckles, a warm, loving sound that feels like a cracking fireplace. 

"You nice and wet for me?" he asks even though as his fingers slowly curl around your swollen bud, he can tell you're absolutely soaked. He sinks the first finger in, finding absolutely no resistance. You're so ready, so open and you take him to the knuckle without hesitation, moaning. 

He watches the emotions flicker across your face as he adds a second finger, slowly working them in and then out. Sees the shuttering of your eyes as you lean into his hand whimpering. Your exquisite, your here, your his. 

"All mine," he rumbles against your jaw. 

It feels so good. His wide fingers hit those perfect spots that you're fingers can never seem to reach. You crack your eyes open to see Joel staring at you, his eyes so dominated by his pupil they look black. He moans softly when you're eyes meet his. He's taking his time, so fucking slowly. 

"Please Joel," you whisper breathlessly. Your eyes are heavy with need, matching his. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

He nods and the bed creaks as he rolls gently over top of you. Another deep kiss is pressed to your mouth as his hips find yours. He notches himself at your entrance and instinctively your thighs go to bracket his hips. 

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Your entire body is trembling, and this is only soothed when you realize that Joel's is as well. His entire body has broken into small, shudders of aching need. Your eyes drift open and his heart swells as you grin up at him.

You need him. No more waiting. You lean forward, kissing him gently. He responds in kind, one hand against your lower back pulling you tighter to him. You think that you could spend your entire life kissing Joel and it wouldn't be nearly enough. 

He's braced on his forearms above you, one wide hand coming to brush the hair from your face. 

"Wanted this for so long," he tells you in a murmur and you know he doesn't just mean the sex. Your eyes are glassy as you nod up at him. 

"Me too." 

He moves slowly into you, your shifting hips leading him into your waiting core. You hiss slightly at the intrusion. He's bigger than Paul or James. 

"Easy," Joel whispers against your temple. "Don't have to rush it."

You nod as his mouth comes to meet yours, his body moving languidly against yours. His left hand finds yours gripping the sheets. He slips his palm over yours, lacing your fingers in his and holding you there. You feel your entire body melt into his. 

"Fuck, honey ... So good," Joel groans as he continues to sheaths himself in you, his head falling forward against your shoulder on the pillow. You whimper, needy and desperate for more. He feels so good. So right. "Those sounds."

He licks into your mouth, groaning as your hands come to rest under his arms, gripping his broad back as you urge him deeper and deeper.

“You’re so deep,” you groan, body jerking against his. The bed creaks gently, rhythmically as he fucks you. No, not fucking – he makes love to you. As if he thinks your body is as sacred as you think his is.

"Say the other thing," Joel whispers against your neck. "Please."

You feel his hips surge forward, filling both your body and heart. You smile, tilting your cheek so he looks at you. You won't say this next part until your gazes are locked. 

"I love you," you say, rolling your hips up against him, your body in communion with his. You see his eyebrows saddle, his eyes watery. 

"Again, please," he groans, his eyes never moving from your face. He didn't even need to ask because the words are already there, offered to him as they will always be offered to him. 

"I love you, Joel."

His mouth is on yours, and his hips plunge deeper into you and now he's rambling between deep kisses, speaking against your mouth. 

"I love you... so long... F-fuck, feel so… Wanna make you feel good, fucking l-love you so much."

His hips are snapping, his resolve unravelling as you cry out. He feels so good, so perfect between your thighs. You wonder if it is always supposed to feel this good, this easy. Desire licks at your belly, your hand coming to cup his cheek so he's looking at you. Something about his eyes, seeing them vacillate between dreamy and sharp makes you lose control. 

"You gonna come again baby?" Joel murmurs to himself, his body coiled. Joel is, as he was not so long ago that time when you rode his thigh, amazed at how quickly you do. How perfectly in synch your bodies are.

His voice is tinged with lust obviously, but also a deep affection that borders on awe. It makes your pulse spike and your body begins to spasm because you’re so fucking close, the pleasure building to an almost uncomfortable level. 

"J-joel-"

"S'okay," Joel tells you with a kiss. "I've got you. I've got you, baby, just let go."

These words, these gentle urging words are what send you cresting and you come with a sharp moan. Your body moves in time with his and you don't realize that you're crying until Joel's hips slow and he's peering into your face. 

"Do you want to stop? Are you okay?"

"What?! Don't stop!" You gasp, urging his hips with a small tap of your hand. It feels so good, you’re already on the precipice again.

He seems to understand because his movements restart in earnest and his mouth is kissing your tears away. You’re hiccup-crying but only because it feels so perfect, the bliss so intense and you're just so thankful for him. For existing. For loving you in a way you'd never thought possible. And you’re crying because you get to be the one to love Joel.

And soon you do come again; your cries are loud, jagged and needy as he thrusts against you over and over. You chant his name, kissing his mouth, arms around his shoulder for purchase as he seeks to bury himself further inside you.   

"I love you," you cry, your hips rolling against his, wanting to make him feel as good as you do. "Love you so fucking much, Joel."

He spills into you, his groans sharp in your ear as he groans out your name, long and low. It seems to go on forever, filling you so deeply. His body is still wrapped around you as his hips finally stutter to a stop. 

You stay like that, tangled against one another until Joel presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and gently eases himself from between your slick thighs. You both sigh as he rolls to your side, pulling you into his arms as if he’s terrified to let you go.

You want to go to sleep, snuggled like this in the warmth of his arms but you’re far too aware of the time.

"We should shower," you say with a pant. 

"Together?" Joel murmurs, raising a brow over the eye peering in your direction from the pillow. 

"Christ, Miller," you say with a breathy laugh. "If we do that we're never making it to the wedding."

And while there isn't time for a communal shower there is time for a soft "I love you". It’s whispered against one anothers' lips, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, before you leave hand in hand for the wedding a short while later. 

There will always be time for that.

///

Sarah has always been a grateful child. She's always been quick with her thank you's, never found it difficult to share her toys and loves seeing those she cares for happy.  

So when her fifth birthday wish of a mama had come true so perfectly in the form of you, she thought it only fair to use her sixth birthday wish for something more philanthropic. 

That day with her father at her side, whispering to make a wish she had done so with thought of Joel and he alone. 

I wish my daddy had a wife.

And now as she stands looking up from her basket of real flower petals to see you and her daddy walking hand in hand towards her, gazing at each other and then her. 

The two of you are trying so hard not to be too obvious and failing spectacularly. Daddy is smiling so widely Sarah actually smiles just looking at him. He's staring at you as the two of you walk, making your way to the ranch. 

You're all blushing, laughing at something Daddy said. You both look so beautiful with you in your dress and him in his suit. 

The two of you both look over and see Sarah at the same time and it's hard to say who looks more excited, you or daddy. 

"Hey bug!" "Hi babygirl!"

The two of you laugh at your mingled pet names as you reach her. You're the first to drop to your knees and Sarah doesn't miss the way her father stares at the back of your head with a sweet little smile. 

Sarah feels her tiny heart hammering as you look to her with arms outstretched and she runs into them, her tiny arms wrapping so tightly around your neck you give a grunt.

Sarah looks over your shoulder at her Daddy. She's confused when she sees his eyes are wet. But his smile is right, so she doesn't think much of it. She pulls back and is confused that your eyes are wet too. 

But maybe it's just allergies? Sarah heard one of the other bridesmaids talking about how an outdoor wedding was hell on hers at the salon earlier today. 

"Daddy can we have pancakes tomorrow morning?"

"'Course, babygirl."

"And you'll be there right?" Sarah says, looking to you imploring. You seem momentarily taken aback, glancing up at Joel suddenly anxious. 

"Yeah, she'll be there," Joel assures you both with a smile. "She's actually gonna be over a lot more often."

Sarah looks at your face breaking into a smile again. Sarah grins, wanting to scatter all the flower petals in the world right now. But then you sober, taking both of her little hands in yours. 

"If that's okay with you, Sarah," you say seriously, your eyes searching her face. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable."

Sarah can tell there's no guile there. If Sarah told you no, you'd respect it. She can feel that. 

"S'okay with me," Sarah says. "I like you there."

"Thanks bug," you say and press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Like a mom would. Sarah feels warmth blooming through her body. 

"Maybe you could have a sleepover at our house." Sarah looks over at her Daddy. "Daddy can she sleep over?" 

You give Daddy a funny look when he barks out a laugh.  

"Yep," Daddy says trying not to grin too wide. "She can sleepover whenever she wants."

You stand, taking his hand again, smirking and Sarah wants to say more but then the mean wedding lady is there. 

But Sarah doesn't care, because she's looking at Daddy kissing your head and all she can think is that she's so happy that her birthday wish came true. 

///

"You're late," Abby snaps as she approaches the three of you. "And are those grass stains?"

She looks over your dress with distaste, holding your bouquet and Sarah's flower girl basket. 

"Probably," you say giving her a level gaze. "Had to kick the shit out of someone before I got here."

You wince only when you realize Sarah might have heard that. But she looks distracted by the basket. 

Joel gives you a surprised look that matches Abby's. Abby thrusts the bouquet into your arms and murmurs an order of going to the barn as she hands Sarah the basket. 

You hold the bouquet at waist level, turning to Joel with an expectant look. He offers his arm and you take it. Sarah goes dashing excitedly ahead and you follow as Joel gives you a curious look. 

"Do I wanna know?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime," you with a wink. "Maybe."

You never will though, because if Joel knew half of what Paul did there would be a fine dusting of Paul scattered all over his new apartment in Leander. Your eyes scan for Maria and Tommy. 

"Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?" Joel murmurs, distracting you.

"Bullshit," you bite back with a smile. "I look like a sad piece of lettuce."

"Well, I always liked eatin' my vegetables," Joel whispers back. 

"Joel!"

You clap a hand over your mouth, holding in the bubble of laughter. You refuse to walk down this aisle collapsing into laughter again. You turn your head into his shoulder as you walk, hiding your laughter as Joel chuckles. 

He feels his heart swelling as he looks down at you tucked up against him, face pink. 

"I love you so fucking much," Joel whispers against the crown of your head. You look up, smiling bright. 

"Ditto, Miller."

///

When the two of you walk down the aisle, you try not to be too obvious. This is Maria and Tommy's day. You make sure you don't look at each other; you don't graze hips as you walk, you don’t smirk. You simply link arms, walking at the right pace for the band.

Tommy is at the end of the aisle with a new haircut looking at you and Joel with an inscrutable look. 

You've done well, you think. But then Joel gives everything away when you drop linked arms. Because instead of just walking in separate directions you feel his wide hand skate down your back, hitting your lower back, fingers curling before pulling slowly away, as if he can't stand not touching you. 

Just that contact is enough to have goosebumps rising all over your body. You duck your head, unable to meet Tommy's gaze as you walk past him. 

You stand across from one another on either side of the aisle, forcing yourself not to stare at one another. 

But you feel Joel's eyes on you, and you relent, dragging your gaze from the sea of faces and over to him. From here you can see just how good Joel looks. Dark navy suit, tailored, crisp white shirt underneath. He looks so sexy you actually have to force yourself to look away. 

You feel eyes on you and you glance over to see Frank smiling up at you in the crowd. You feel your face pink as he shoots you a waggle of his eyebrows. Bill isn't watching you, his eyes are on Joel. 

Maybe Frank isn't the only one to think your boyfriend is cute.

Your boyfriend. Joel is your boyfriend.

It seems like everything and yet not enough.

Then the sound of the band starts up again and you both quickly look up to see Sarah with a serious look on her face. With amusement you watch as she delicately takes one petal from the basket, crouches and places it on the aisle runner atop the grass. She does this with the next petal. . . And the next one. . . Moving an inch at a time.

You see Joel giving a smirk accompanied by a wince as the crowd titters. At this rate you're all going to be here for hours. Inspired you call out to her over the music. 

"Make it colorful, bug."

She seems to understand, her face breaking into a wide smile. She nods, thrusting her hand into the basket and tossing handfuls of colorful petals into the air, moving quickly down the aisle.  

The crowd cheers as you and Joel laugh, watching her dance down the aisle tossing the flower remnants in every direction. Finally she reaches the end of the aisle, looking up to you expectantly.

"Was I good?"

"The best.”

Maria enters on her father's arm. You can see Sheila crying in the front row, blowing her nose as you hold in a giggle at this.

Maria is ethereal. The dress made for her. Ethereal isn't even enough to describe how angelic she looks in the off-white dress that clings to her hips and dances down over her knees. The sun is setting, casting everyone in the golden hue of the day. It feels magical. 

She double winks at you as she nears the end of the aisle and you return it. A code from your club days.

Two winks: you good?

Two winks back: I'm good.

She smiles and nods, handing you her large brides bouquet before turning to face Tommy who is staring at her in quite the same way Joel stares at you. 

The Minister waits for the band to conclude the last strains of the song before he begins. 

"Dearly beloved..."

///

You and Joel have done very well at keeping your hands to yourselves for the duration of the wedding. It was a bit difficult during wedding photos, but there were so many orders of where to stand and how to pose that you were both distracted.

It's easy during dinner because you're seated on either side of the couple at the head table. You're squished between Maria and an annoying cousin of hers that won't stop talking about her manicure. 

Joel is next to Tommy with Sarah next to him, her tiny feet kicking the air as she eats her pasta. 

The speeches are lovely with lots of laughter, lots of wine and lots of good food. The music is amazing as well, upbeat and fun and it gets the crowd dancing. When you look at the band you feel a little thrill go through you when you remember Joel singing to you. 

You watch him now, Sarah's hands in his as they dance together. She's giggling and saying something that makes Joel laugh. In a motion as old as dance itself, Sarah's tiny feet are atop her father's and he shuffles them around the dance floor. 

Bill and Frank are dancing, well, Bill is shuffling while Frank goes full out, arms in the air as he sings along with the vocalist.

Maria and Tommy are very good dancers, shockingly so. You love seeing the affection they have for one another, even when they're laughing and doing silly dances. 

It's the slow dance that brings a halt to your plans of restraint. You sit at your table, falling more in love with Joel every second.

You watch him stride to your table, popping Sarah into her chair with the coloring book and crayons Maria made sure were there for the kids attending the wedding (she thinks of everything!) she happily goes back to the Disney princess she was coloring. 

Then he's come to your chair and holds his large hand out to you.

"May I have this dance?"

As if you could refuse.

You beam up at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. You admire the breath of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. And he's all yours. Because you are never letting Joel Miller go. 

Ever. 

The song is slow and sweet. You glance over to see Maria and Tommy kissing gently before her head nestles in the crook of his neck. 

You long to do the same with Joel, but you don't want to draw the extra attention. 

Instead you try and remain stoic as Joel's hand spans your lower back. One of your hands goes to curl over Joel's shoulder, your free hands in clasped in one anothers. 

You dance like this a while, trying so hard not to make it obvious that you're desperately in love with the man that holds you to him, swaying you gently to the music. You hear him gently humming the tune of the song under his breath. 

Joel is trying his hardest not to stare at you, but it's impossible. He's wished for you so long that it still seems surreal that your here in his arms and your staying.* it makes his stomach twist pleasantly. 

He looks down at you, mouth hitched in a boyish grin. 

"So, you still like me?"

"Nah," you reply, your eyes dancing. "Pretty sure I'm in love with you." 

"That's a relief," Joel murmurs, aching to kiss you. "Because I was thinking I'd like to marry you sometime pretty soon."

You feel your heart jump at this. Your entire body breaking out into a delicious shiver as Joel stares down at you.

"That's convenient," you reply just as smoothly. "Because I was thinking I'd really like to be your wife someday soon."

Joel grins widely, so handsome and so sexy that you feel overcome. The song ends and with reluctance you pull back. You can't go several more hours without feeling him against you. You tilt forward, dropping your voice.

"Outside. Five minutes." 

Joel nods, pretending to part from you. You walk back from the dance floor on your way to grab a drink when you spot Bill making his way back from the drink station. You call him over.

"Thank you for earlier," you tell him, heart swelling. "Both you and Frank. I don't know what I would have done."

"Was nothing," Bill says shyly. 

"It was everything," you correct gently. "But I think you know that." 

Bill's shrugging. "Saw you arrived with the contractor."

Now it's your turn to give a shy shrug. "Yeah."

"You told him," Bill observes. There's no emotion in his voice, good or bad. You suppose because then he'd feel responsible one way or the other. But his eyes give everything away.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I'm really glad I did." 

The corner of Bill's mouth curls ever so slightly under his beard. 

"Good."

You feel so much affection for Bill in this moment. Watching him stride over your lawn to protect you this morning. The advice he's given you. Baking cupcakes for Sarah. The way he's just there when you need him. Glowering or sullen yes, but he's there. 

"Bill.... I just... My dad was never... I just wanna," you're stumbling over the words, trying to find them. To thank him for being the father you always wanted without even realizing. To thank him for his steady, calming presence even when it didn't come naturally to him.

And in a move you'll swear was a dream, Bill pulls you with one arm into his barrel chest. He holds you there tightly only a moment and releases you.

"You know we're always here if you need."

And then he's gone before you can say more, striding away from you and back to Frank who is deep in conversation with Sarah. 

You're in a daze when you feel a hand glide over the small of your back. You watch as Joel moves past you and out into the warm night. 

He glances back just before ducking around the corner, just long enough to give you a sultry wink that hits you so hard you actually stumble walking.  Jesus, your entire body is thrumming. You need to get Joel back into bed as soon as possible. Maybe you won't ever leave it. There are worst fates.

You wait a few moments, trying to be discreet before you slip out from the loud party and outside. The cicadas reach you, the warm breeze dancing along your face as you step out the barn doors. 

"Hey pretty lady," a deep voice sounds from your left. "You single by any chance?"

You turn, giggling when you see Joel leaning against the outer wall of the barn. His jacket is off, his white button down sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looks delicious. 

"Nah I've got this big, strong boyfriend," you tease as you slink towards him. "And you better be careful ‘cuz he's got a real bad temper. He punched a guy in a McDonald's once."

Joel holds in a sharp laugh, reaching for you. "Yeah but he had it coming."

"Couldn't agree more," you nod, allowing Joel to pull you into his arms. 

You go boneless against him as he kisses you, his hands on either side of your face. He pauses only when he feels you tense up, his large eyes scanning your face.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm scared at how good this feels," you confess to him without hesitation. "I've lived a whole life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feels too good. I'm too happy."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Joel promises you. "No shoe droppin' with the Millers. We take care of each other."

"I'm not a Miller."

"Just a formality," Joel assures you between kisses. 

You grin through a watercolor blur and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"I love you," you say against his jaw, just because you can say it. You get to say this to Joel anytime you want. 

"Ditto."

Joel wedges a finger under your chin and tilts your face to him. He presses his mouth over yours once more. You sigh, arms wrapping around his neck. He's so wonderful.

His mouth finds yours again and again and your hips find his and before long he has you pressed against the barn with one of your thighs wrapped around his waist. His tongue is slipping slowly against yours as you whimper. 

You can't help it; kissing Joel is like a drug and you always want more. Your hands are at his collar, his hands at your lower back pressing you into him. 

"You gonna sleepover tonight?" Joel laughs, kissing you down your neck. The sleepover comment from earlier still amusing him.

"If you'll have me."

"Anytime," Joel promises, his body flush with yours against the side of the barn. "Need you in my bed as much as possible. Wanna take you there right now." 

If Joel has it his way you'll never leave his bed again. 

His kisses grow more insistent and he feels your body shuddering against his. Could you make it to his truck? Just for fifteen minutes? 

"Save it for after the cake cutting, would ya?"

The two of you break apart sheepishly at the sound of Tommy's voice. You glance behind you to see Tommy and Maria smirking at you as they come through the back of the barn. 

Joel feels Tommy's eyes on him, twinkling and merry. Joel's mouth twists into an embarrassed smirk. 

"Shut the fuck up."

Tommy moves over to his brother, somehow seeming to know that you and Maria need a quick chat. 

Maria's eyes are wet, and she's trying so hard not to grin too wide, for fear of creasing her very heavy wedding makeup. 

You think back to all the times she tried to warn you off Paul, all the times she tried to push you to Joel and you feel your face crumple. You wrap your oldest friend in your arms.

"Maria, I'm so-"

"Don't you dare apologize," Maria tells you firmly, pulling you back so she can peer into your face, wiping the tears that have escaped down your cheek. "Not for this. Never."

"Okay," you nod, knowing that this is what your friendship is. No recriminations, no long-standing grudges. Just two friends who want to see the best for one another. 

"I just wanted you to be happy," she says, eyes welling. "That's all I ever want for you."

"I am," you whisper, voice breaking. "I'm so fucking happy."

Sarah dashes over to you, wanting to show you and her aunt all the flowers from the tables she's collected into her flower girl basket. You hoist her onto your hip so you can all marvel at the colorful arrangements inside. 

"Next time listen to me when I tell you something," Maria says with faux irritation over the basket. "I'm never wrong."

"Except when you tried to tell me I looked good in leather pants," you reason. 

"I'll give you that one," Maria relents and you both dissolve into laughter. Despite having no idea what's so funny, Sarah joins in, one arm around your neck as she giggles. 

At the sound the Miller men glance over at you with stars in their eyes. Tommy places a hand on his older brother's shoulder, shaking his head as if you're the silliest bunch he's ever laid eyes on.  

"Well, that's our future, Joel."

"Yeah," Joel says, grinning at you as you catch his eye beaming.

"Yeah it is."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #happily ever after #happy ending #slice of life #joel miller fic #happy Joel Miller #wedding #Sarah Miller #joel the last of us

[hunnidmilly]

Beg. Sequel to Soap. |r.r|

(a/n) real fast. i wanna say thank you so much for all the love you’ve given me over my last 4 writings. it means the world to me absolutely. milly loves you. <3.

sometimes, it’s just too good to not come back for more. Sequel of Soap. Completely inspired and credited to @itjazzbicch ‘Cheiftess’ Series.

warnings: smut, choking kink, unprotected sex (milly does not support this message. wrap it up.), enemies to…official sneaky links??), face DOWNNN ass UPPP, poor use of present and past tense,

parings: enemy!roman x black!reader

word count: 4.3K…never say i never gave y’all anything.

(tags: @fame-ass-ers @squishyguishy @vebner37 @smuts-whore @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine)

*takes place 2 months after Roman Reigns Vs. Kevin Owens Feud 2021*

“Ladies and gentlemen, Daniel Bryan.” You smiled as the camera panned to the man next to you

You’ve known Daniel for a long time now. You were absolutely over the moon at his return to WWE. Behind the scenes, given your friendship with Brie and Nicole, you knew how hard he worked to make it back. It was something you admired about him.

“Y/N! How are you?” He enthusiastically responded to you

“I’m great! How are you doing? How are you feeling ahead of your triple threat match against Roman Reigns and Edge?”

“I’m feeling amazing! Absolutely over the moon! It’s going to be amazi—“

Daniel trailed off as a man appeared next to us. You turned as a certain short, obnoxious, man appeared next to you both.

“Daniel! Y/N! How are you guys doing on this fine evening?” Paul Heyman sarcastically asked

“Paul…hello.” You responded with a lack in your tone

You just knew this was a ‘special’ impromptu visit from Roman. He had his ways like that. Being around even when he wasn’t. It caused you to internally roll your eyes at the sneak attack.

“Did the Tribal Chief know this interview was going to be done?” He asked with a shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t report back to you or him; thank you, Paul. Now, Daniel, do you think that on the grandest stage of them all, you can pull off such a performance? You and Roma—“

“The Tribal Chie—“

“Would you like to go back to your Daddy so I can finish my job?” You spat, cutting off Paul. “Wherever you end up, Brock Lesnar's locker room or Roman Reigns.”

“I—I—I have no clue what you are referring to. I do not w-w-work for Brock Lesnar anymore. Ms. Y/N, I am merely just trying to—“

“Thank you, Paul.” You grit your teeth as the cameras cut

You toss a sincere look to Daniel and give him a small side hug before turning to the man who quickly became a nuisance, “Listen. I don’t give a damn! I don’t care if you work for Brock, Roman, or Joe fucking Biden. You do not interrupt my job performance. And I know he sent you here on some possessive shit, trying to get a rise out of me. It’s written all over your fucking face. Move!”

You shove Paul out of your way, leaving him stunned in the middle of the hall. You went quickly to find Roman. Fighting against every nerve in your head telling you to turn around. After that small, impromptu meeting in the showers two months ago, you did all you could to stay away from him. Even not becoming his regular interviewer anymore. The last thing you needed was to be fuckbuddies with the man that Roman Reigns is. You could basically kiss your job goodbye if you knew it.

But, he just couldn’t seem to stay away from you. Everytime you turned around, it was like he’d be right there waiting for you. Causing more smart mouthed spats in the middle of the hallway. Anytime you both collided, you both would bicker. You’d think you and him were an old married couple. The majority of it wasn’t an act. Roman did get a rise out of you. He walked the earth with his third leg as if he controlled everyone around him, and they had to kiss the ground he walked on. He was still an asshole. After his initial thought that you’d come begging him for dick, you knew you had to prove him wrong. You didn’t need him. Not for sex…earth shaking sex. No matter how badly you wanted to call him to break you off again.

Your studded black boots clicked on the floor with every determined stride to his locker room. Before you got the chance to bang on it, as intended, it flew open with the 6’3 Samoan smirking down at you.

Roman knew he pissed you off. He knew ever trick in the damn book, on what would make your blood pressure rise. Hell, he wrote the book himself. You weren’t going to admit yourself, how much you wanted him? Fine. But he had plans to make you pay for that shit.

‘Oh, I’ll give him something to smirk about.’

“Who in the hell do you think you fucking are? You got Paul as my bodyguard now?” You snarl into his face, your heels giving you extra height to match him up

“Oh, please. What are you doing interviewing, Bryan? Hm? Answer me that first, baby girl.” He raises an eyebrow

“You have zero authority over me and whoever the hell I interview. You might be asskissing Vince, but your name isn’t anywhere near my checks. You don’t own me!”

“That’s not how I recall the story, Very…very far from it actually. Would you like a reminder?” He dropped his voice an octave deeper and smirked, leaning forward, “Remember, all you have to do is ask.”

“Why don't, instead, you go find where Paul is? We all know how quick he is to drop to his knees with a knife in your back at the reigning! Oh, so defen—”

“You think you're so fucking funny. Huh? I got a joke for you, go tell McIntyre how badly you turn cock drunk when you’re being pounded. How all it takes is for my cock to run over that bundle of nerves inside of you for you to gush down my clock like the whore you are?” Roman grits his teeth with his face mere centimeters from yours; pure agitation on his face at your mention of Brock Lesnar.

The last few weeks, you’ve been cautiously talking to a certain 6’5 Scottish man more and more. Drew was amazing. He treated you well—a sweetheart, if you must say. Movie dates, dinner dates, makeout sessions. Although you’d been holding out on him. Many times Drew slid his hand under your shirt, or would squeeze your backside. You’d always pull away and call it a night. Drew was attractive. Three months ago, you’d allow him a taste of you. Hell why not? He was attractive, strong, tall. But two months ago, you had sex with Roman. Absently, closing you off for any other guy. Admit it or not, it was amazing.

More than once, you’d catch yourself taking a warm, vanilla scented bubble bath, sliding your hand over your stomach, and heading down south…

You circled that small bundle of nerves before moving lower and sliding a finger in. Instinctively, your pussy welcomed your small finger and clenched around it. You threw your head back and sinked lower into the bathtub. Imagining it was Roman behind you, playing with your pussy. Your moans echoed into the bathroom as you worked yourself. Even while Roman wasn’t here, you could hear his voice in the back of your head. Coaxing you, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Slide in one more, babygirl…make her wetter for me.” He whispers into your mind.

“Romannnn!” You cry out in a whine as your orgasm squirts into the palm of your hand.

Your eyes opened as your chest raised up and down heavily.

Those nights happened more than once. You knew you were deeply involved with Roman. More than you wanted.

The mixed emotions weren’t helping. Roman tapped dance on the last nerve in your body. All over it, with a full dance routine. Why did you want him so badly, again?

“How about I have that same conversation with Paul? You and him spend an awful lot of time locked inside that room. Do me a favor, Roman. Stay the hell away from me, and for once, look in a mirror. I don’t give a damn about what titles you have or how many you have. You’re still a whiny ass crybaby. Bite me.” With that, you exhaled a sigh and turned on your heels to walk away with a small movement in your hips. You knew his gaze would be on your backside as you walked away

You’d be lying if you said the thought of calling him for another satisfied fuck didn’t occur to you. Every night when you laid awake using different toys or your hands, you threatened to grab your phone to call him. But you couldn’t. He’d have the upper hand. He’d know the control he possessed over your body. And damn, he had that hold on you good.

You straddled Drew’s waist as you both engaged into a heated make out session. Your tongue sliding back and forth against his as you both let out small groans and moans. What started as being in his hotel room watching a movie turned into becoming distracted by the soft kisses Drew placed on your neck. He makes a low growl sound from the middle of his chest as your fingers slide into his hair

“You're so beautiful, you know that?” Drew mumbles against your lips as his hands glides over your ass and hips, adoring the feeling of how big and round it felt in your hands.

You felt his hands slide over the front of your jeans, fingering with the button there, causing you to draw away from him, “I think we should call it a night. It’s getting late. And you know how Vince feels about being late.” You joke breathlessly at a dazed and confused Drew. You quickly stand to fix your clothes and grab your phone off the table.

“What’s up with you lately?”

You felt your heart sink with a small amount of guilt as you turned around to see Drew’s face adorned with embarrassment.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“You just…don’t seem as into this as I am.”

You felt a slight bit offended at his question. He thought you weren’t into this because of what? You wouldn’t have sex with him? “I have to have sex with you to be into this?”

“C’mon, I’m not fucking stupid. You barely even speak to me at the arenas, anytime we’re alone you keep checking your phone, and all I get is a few pecks and your ready to run for the fuckin’ hills.”

“Look. I don’t want people in my business. What’s the first thing you think people will ask if they see us together?”

“Who's gonna see us? Heyman? You don’t want him to spill to Roman you’re hanging around me?” Drew stands over you, his eyes wide with an evil look behind them. You’d think you were his enemy.

Your eyes nearly bulge out your head at Drew’s mention of Roman. Of course that night in the showers, everyone was gone. No one knew about your rendezvous, “Everyone sees you and him always arguing in the halls. So it’s two things. You’re either scared of him or fucking him.” He snarls

Drew’s face snapped to the side as you raised your hand back and slapped the taste from his mouth. Before you could make another strike you decided it would be best to just leave, throwing a glare at him as you walked past him. You couldn’t really be mad he guessed you slept you Roman. But you belonged to neither man. Drew had no right to insulate he owned you of some sort. If you didn’t want to have sex with him, he didn’t deserve a reason.

You quickly grabbed your things and walked away from Drew, straight out his hotel room. You felt yourself become overwhelmed at the thought of seeing Roman. His suite was on this floor in the far corner of the hall.

What if I knocked?

You brushed off your sexual urges as you headed towards the elevator to go down to your floor. You worked yourself into even deeper trouble. Drew had a few friends around the business and of course, he’d tell them how he couldn’t get you into bed. You could practically hear the “stuck up bitch” being thrown out to you already. Not mixing business with pleasure was now crossed into your new agenda permanently, you even made a mental note to create a tinder account.

You felt pathetic. How could you want someone who treated the rest of the world like shit? He didn’t even say please and thank you. You worked hard at resisting him, but that wall was slowly being bulldozed.

On cue, As you drifted into your own thoughts, the elevator dinged bringing you back into your consciousness. Just your damn luck, the pleasure stepped out the elevator blocking your entry.

“You came to deliver my message to your little boyfriend?” Roman smirks again, feeling accomplished.

Your eyes quickly glance over his body as you notice the black leather jacket, white tank top, black pants, and Jordan’s. You let out a huff as you move to the side to go around him before he steps in the same direction, “What the hell is your problem?” You questioned placing your hands over your hips letting out a sigh

“My problem? What’s yours? Why fight what you and I both know you want?” He asks stepping closer to you, sizing you up

You let out a snort with a roll of your eyes. This man was way too proud of himself. “Don’t boost your ego anymore than it is. Your head might just explode.”

“Fuckin’ admit it. You want me to break you off again. Give into you, but you’re in for a rude awakening. One thing people don’t do is lie to my face. Me and you both know right now, your pussy is dripping into those panties. Begging for me to make her submit to my every will. So do you, don’t you? You want that, don’tchu? To feel my cock stretching you out the way those fingers can’t? We both want it, and you know that. And that little boyfriend of yours? All of you belongs to me. Get that. Do you understand me?” He taunts, his face looming down over yours, his eyes thick with lust.

For the first time, since meeting Roman, you were quiet. You were stunned at his honesty. Your mouth felt dry at the thought of belonging to Roman. As much as you wanted to punch him dead in his jaw, who were you trying to convince? You wanted to feel him inside of you again. What happened in the showers would be just a mere rushed fuck. You wanted him to make you his.

“Now are you done acting like a little ass child? Be an adult and use your words. Tell me you want me, baby girl. Anytime you want some dick, just as-”

As if you were being hypnotized by his words, “I want you.” flew right out your mouth and onto his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to your frame.

You could feel the white light behind your eyes bust, knowing you reached a moment of no return. There was no going back. Roman lowered his hands to your ass, squeezing it tightly, pulling you flush to his body. The kiss was hungry, he was rewarding you for your honesty by biting your bottom lip repeatedly. Your tongue explored his mouth as he slipped his own between your lips. The warm feeling in his chest erupted as his current wildest dream was about to come true.

Once again.

Romans hands slid downwards to the crease of your ass and your thighs, proceeding to lift you up allowing you to wrap your hands around his waist. You briefly wondered if he could hear your heart beating at a rapid pace. Your nerves were all over the place. This time was different. You felt more exposed at admitting you wanted to be his.

Roman opened the door to his suite, walking towards his bedroom. You let out a sequel as he threw you onto the middle of his bed. His eyes were dark and hungry. Before you could have a moment to change your mind, he silenced you with another kiss.

Whatever you were about to say didn’t matter, bitchy remarks or not, was the last thing on his mind. Roman wrapped his hands around your ankle, yanking you down the bed closer to his body.

“Take these off,” He growls out to you, tugging at your pants

With a little aid from yourself, you lift your hips to allow him to pull them off, revealing your hot pink lace underwear. You could see a snarl form on Romans face, remembering how just an hour ago you were with Drew.

Roman kneels onto the bed, covering your body with his as he smashes his lips onto yours. His hand ghosted slowly towards Your warm and wet heat. You parted your legs, slightly, giving his fingers the space they needed to explore your warmth and wetness covered by lace.

“Mmmm,” You sighed into his mouth, as his slipped his hand into the hand of your panties circling your clit

“Shut up.” He grumbles back

He slid his index and middle fingers into your pussy. You felt your breath hitch inside of your throat as he moved his fingers in and out picking up pace. You reached down to grip his wrist, attempting to brace yourself from being overheated with pleasure. Rather quickly, you felt your belly tighten with a small amount of pressure. Roman felt you clamp down on his fingers,

“Let go,” he whispers into your mouth. You began squirming, unable to remain still as pleasure hit your body in waves, nearly consuming you. Your lower half worked against the strokes of his fingers; riding them into oblivion.

“Ahhhh! Oh my God. Please,” You cried out, squeezing your eyelids together.

You briefly closed your eyes, gathering yourself from your clouded thoughts. You felt the bed dip, as Roman stood to his full height. You lay back into your elbows as you watched him undress himself.

“The next time you ever mention Lesnar or McIntyre to my fuckin’ face you’ll regret it. If I ever see you near him again, I’m going to make sure he knows personally who you belong to. You understand?” He grits out lowering his boxers, letting his girthy and long cock spring against his abdomen

You decided to test him a little bit and raise your legs to your chest, closing them, his view of your panty covered pussy now gone. “But I like McIntyre. We were jus—Shit!” You squeal as Roman pounces onto the bed, slapping the side of your plush thigh roughly, marveling at the jiggle it created.

“Y’wanna finish that sentence? You think you’re in charge, but I'm calling the shots tonight. Turn the fuck over.”

Roman growls, not giving you the chance to turn over yourself, and grabs your hips in a grip before flipping you over and pushing you into a deep arch with your face flush into the bed. Roman catches you spreading your legs a bit more causing him to chuckle, “Slide back onto me. You want it so bad, let me see you fuck yourself.”

You let out a moan as you feel the tip of Romans cock make contact with the entrance of your pussy. You push back, with a bit of force till the head of Romans cock makes its way inside your pussy. Getting impatient, Roman grabs your plush hips and pulls out. Letting out an impatient whine, you felt a chill down your spine as he licked a stripe up your pussy. He then surges forward pushing in his entire length in one move.

“Ah!” You gasped “Wait, fuc—“

“Nah, remember all that shit you were saying. You’re taking all of me tonight. Don’t you dare run from me either.”

Roman teased you with slow, deep strokes at first, before speeding up his pace. You turned your head into the mattress letting out screams.

He reached up grabbing your hair into a tight grip, pulling your head up, “Nah, let the whole floor know who’s fucking you right now.”

“You’re so fuckin—“

“Big?” Roman chuckles in a deep voice

“Conceited, Ugh!” You squeal, clawing at the sheets as his big and rough hand cracks on your ass.

“But whose pussy is creaming around me? Yeah? Look at her, swallowing this dick. Her dick. She knows who she belongs to, doesn’t she baby? Talk to me.” He praised, spreading your ass cheeks to watch your wetness coat his cock.

While you could feel your heart swell at the comment, him being yours, it served the same meaning for Roman. It fueled Romans ego more, at the squelching wet noises your pussy was making for him as he fucked you into the mattress.

You only got this way for him. He only got this way for you.

Yeah, you definitely can’t let him go now.

You let out a mewl as his thickness stretched you out, creating both pain and pleasure. That same familiar vein rubbing against your spot, “Ohh! Fuck, yes! I belon–I belong to you! It’s your pussy!” You moaned louder as the headboard began to slam against the walls as he fucked you faster.

You pushed your ass backwards and began throwing your ass back against his hips. Why did you do that?

He chuckled. “You throwing that ass back like a big girl, baby? You gon’ take this dick like one too.” Without waiting for you to respond, he deepened his strokes and picked up his pace.

“Ooh, shit!” You moaned, gripping the comforter. He was so deep in you, that you felt like he was fucking your heart. Feeling the coil in your belly, you clenched your muscles around his cock.

“You wanna show out, huh?” A deep growl escaped his throat. “I got something for your ass.” He announced before really starting to fuck you. I was talking about pulling out and sliding back in, fucking you. Your nails nearly drew rips into the sheets. Your pussy creating a slippery mess, letting him slide back in easily.

“Fuck!” You yelled, blindly reaching behind him to push at his abdomen, to give you a moment to catch your breath.

“What did I say? You’re taking all of me. I told you not to run, baby girl. Don’t act like you can’t take it. What about all that shit at the arena earlier, hm?” he said, grabbing your hands and pinning them against your lower back. He propped his foot up on the bed, and used your bounded arms to bring you against him to meet your thrust.

“Shit, Roman! Fuck! Make me take it!” You cried in pleasure.

There was no way Drew was ever getting a text back, a call back…shit an email. Especially, if he didn’t hear you practically calling out to god as Roman was engraving himself on you.

Roman hissed as he felt your pussy contract, creating a second skin for him. He knew you were close, and he wasn’t far behind himself, “Y’gonna cum for me, baby? My good girl. Cum all over me baby. Let me see it.”

“Mmmm, yesssss!” You moaned, throwing your head towards the ceiling. “Fuck… I’m cumming…Romannnn!” Your orgasm ripped through you—releasing a wave of wet heat all over Roman’s cock.

Roman’s spine shook as he felt your pussy tighten around him, keep him in, as you gushed all over his cock—warm wet heat circling around him. Tears coated your cheeks, as your orgasm ripped through you making your entire body convulse as you babbled incoherent words. Roman let out a roar as his own orgasm rushed to the core, deep and filling up your pussy, mixing your juices together, “Shit! Fuck yeah, baby!” His voice thick and heavy with rasp

You both collapsed on the bed, limbs tangled into each other, and sucking as much air as you could back into your lungs. After a brief moment, Roman raised up from the bed and disappeared into his bathroom. A few seconds later, he came out with a wet towel to clean the both of you off. You bit your lip, as the feeling of the warm towel moving against your pussy came over you.

Roman laid down next to you, his chest heaving up and down, before chucking to himself. His signature smirk coating his face.

“What?”

“Bet your ass knows better than to lie to me now. See what your little stubborn ass act denied you from?” He replies, his big dick attitude back on 10. But hell. He had the big dick to match, so.

“Do you ever get e-fucking-nough of being an asshole?”

“You spent two months running from me, getting on my fuckin’ nerves, makin’ everything 20x harder for me, fucking’ around with my money with those interviews. Whole time you wanted me to make you cum again. Stubborn ass, woman. I gotta say, the resistance act was sexy as hell.” He expresses before pulling you to him, to lay on his chest

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. It wasn’t an act, Tribal Chief.” You roll your eyes at his self centered moment of truth. Some things never change.

“Oh yeah, baby? What was it?” He questions before moving over on top of your sweaty frame

After a brief moment of eye contact, for once and for all you decided to settle it and let him win. Just this once. You raised up to place a more gentle kiss than the one you shared earlier. That was more hungry, sloppy, messy…this one was delicate, soft, tender. You wanted to tell him what you couldn’t say out loud. You pulled back and saw a look of admiration in his eyes.

“You’re mine.” Roman claims with a small smirk

“And you’re mine.” You respond back

“I’m yours.”

*please, leave me some comments, reblogs with funny stuff, and follow for more! i love interacting with u guys! send in any ask u guys have!*

#roman empire #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns head cannon #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #jey uso smut #wwe one shot #roman reigns headcanon #roman reigns headcanons #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fics #wwe x reader #wwe oneshot #wwe smut #dom!roman #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns angst #roman reigns masterlist #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe imagines

[gardenschedule]

Paul wrangling John

Brian Epstein made the Beatles PR conscious: he would say, ‘Don’t smoke on stage’ and things like that. I was very pleased that they stopped smoking on stage as I didn’t like it myself. He had no difficulty persuading Paul as he knew instinctively how a band should behave on stage, but John was a rebel and George could be difficult.

Bob Wooler, c/o Spencer Leigh, The Best of Fellas: The Story of Bob Wooler. (2002)

JOHN: The truth about the separation was she kicked me out . . . so I (laughter) was adrift at sea . . . and there was nobody to protect me from myself which is fine. I should be able to look after myself but I never had, and there was Epstein or Paul to cover up for me. I’m not putting Paul down and I’m not putting Brian down. They’d done a good job in containing my personality from not causing too much trouble.

Barbara Graustark, “The Real John Lennon.” Newsweek (September 1980)

JOHN (with mock horror): My “lost weekend”? It lasted for eighteen months. I was like an elephant in zoo, aware that it’s trapped but not able to get out. It’s an extension of the craziness that I’d been doing with the Beatles in Hamburg in Liverpool, but it had been covered up by the people surrounding us. So when I freaked out, there would be Paul or Epstein to say “What he really means is he’s just a normal boy from a normal family who likes to shear sheep.” And the machinery around us would take care of the business. By the time we got to America, we were old hands at it. But if you look back at the Beatles’ first national press coverage, it was because I sent a guy to the hospital for calling me a fag, saying I slept with Brian Epstein.

Barbara Graustark, “The Real John Lennon.” Newsweek (September 1980)

“But all the time Paul, and Brian Epstein we’re always trying to kill me from saying anything. But because I was in so much pain, I’d always get drunk or drugged, and I’d always say something that didn’t suit them. And so always, I would leave a piece of shit amongst the Beatles image. But all the time they tried to kill me and kill me and bring me down to be a Beatle, to be a nice boy, be a Beatle. But if you look from the career of the Beatles, the first national news the Beatles ever got in the English newspapers was when I nearly killed somebody at Paul’s party. So all the famous news the Beatles ever got besides being Go–angels, was when I did something terrible through being in so much pain. So they could never keep me down.”

Oct 1971 - John and Yoko interviewed during John’s 31st birthday celebration by reporter Takahiro Imura

"I constantly saw Lennon and McCartney together because Paul came along to see that I wasn't rude to John - who I can't say I got on with. Paul didn't want me to upset John."

Sir Joseph Lockwood - Northern Songs: The True Story of the Beatles Song Publishing Empire, Brian Southall, 2008

Sometimes, though, I certainly thought John was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great, and you’ve already done enough work to demonstrate that.’ I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’

Paul McCartney, in The Lyrics (2021).

It came as a welcome relief that John and Paul, along with Neil Aspinall, planned a quick trip to New York on May 11, where several press events had been scheduled to announce Apple Records in the States. Friends agreed that getting John away might do him a world of good; being alone, with just Paul to steady him, might have a calming influence. Paul was grappling with his own set of anxieties. “We wanted a grand launch,” Paul said, “but I had a strange feeling and was very nervous.” Drugs, he later admitted, may have been at the root of his problem

Bob Spitz, The Beatles: The Biography, 2005

“The setting is the Blue Angel and Paul McCartney is upstairs talking to some press people, while in the basement is John Lennon shooting his mouth off, well away with the drink or whatever. He said, “Hitler should have finished the job”, meaning that the gas ovens should have been more active than they were. His manager was Jewish and I prevailed upon him to be quiet because the press were upstairs, but he didn’t take any notice of me. I told Paul that John was shooting his mouth off and that the press must not get wind of it. ”

Bob Wooler, c/o Spencer Leigh, Best of the Beatles: The Sacking of Pete Best. (2015)

“The party was at Auntie Gin’s house in Huyton. By now, Paul could afford a marquee in the garden.This is inside the house, where my comedy group, Scaffold, are performing for the guests. John Gorman and Roger McGough are onstage, and I’m photographing reactions to the act. The jokes are going well with Paul, his girlfriend Jane Asher, and an old school chum, Ivan Vaughn, but John Lennon was so pissed he kept shouting, ‘That’s not funny’ (until Paul told him to ‘Shhh!,’ which he did)…” -

Mike McCartney

[After John pours a beer on Chris Montez' head and starts a brawl] Everyone settled down in their seats. Paul McCartney tried to make peace with Chris. Chris said, “Paul sat by me and said, ‘Come on, Chris, let’s be friends….’ “I said, ‘Paul, just get away from me, I don’t want nothing to do with you guys. You know, you pissed me off!” As for Lennon, Chris recalled, “John? I guess he was a wise guy. But I got the sense that, I shouldn’t say this, that he was jealous of who I was or what I did. I don’t know what his problem was, but I didn’t like it too much.”

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BRAWL BETWEEN JOHN LENNON AND CHRIS MONTEZ IN 1963! EXCLUSIVE!

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight.

John

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney – 1982

I spoke to Paul about this night many years later, and he confirmed that he and George had been shaken rigid when they found out we were up on the roof. They knew John was having a what you might call a bad trip. John didn’t go back to Weybridge that night; Paul took him home to his place, in nearby Cavendish Road. They were intensely close, remember, and Paul would do almost anything for John. So, once they were safe inside, Paul took a tablet of LSD for the first time, 'So I could get with John’ as he put it- be with him in his misery and fear.

George Martin, With a Little Help from My Friends: The Making of Sgt. Pepper

AW: Isn’t he? Well, you know, of all the people, he comes through a lot of stick. Or a lot of people think he comes through a lot of stick in my book. But that’s the way John behaved. He behaved really outrageously. And Paul used to pour the oil on the troubled waters, as it were. But of all the people, only John, out of all the Beatles, have said that my book is the only book that gives a true insight to what it was to be an early Beatle. I admire him for that.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #you can only assume john loves being taken care of by bossy types #mimi -> brian/paul -> yoko

[cassiopeiathe1st]

so as a biology major, here's some things i've been chewing on after reading the unwanted guest. this post is brought to you by the part of my brain that saw the 7th's hereditary blood cancer and thought ok but what KIND of cancer is that.

the phrasing of "permeability of the soul" makes me think of semipermeable membranes and diffusion. diffusion is a passive process -- our molecules, when left to their own devices, want to be everywhere because entropy, but the semipermeable membranes that make up cells organelles etc make life possible by keeping things organized. this dividing & filtering process is required to keep things in place. with me so far?

to me, this concept of permeability emphasizes that souls are objects with boundaries. there's a line somewhere, however blurry (clearly very very blurry) or porous, that divides self & other, and! and!! that line only exists because it is somehow constructed, maintained, enforced. see: ianthe working so hard to convince herself/pal/the hypothetical audience of this play she's putting on that she's just ianthe with no babs mixed in. or john's ritual of retelling his story to alecto/harrow in NTN. something something being the unreliable narrator of your own identity.

palamedes calls the process that merges him and camilla to give us paul grand lysis vs. the "petty", incomplete lysis of eightfold word lyctorhood. lysis = the disintegration of a cell by rupture of the cell wall or membrane. the boundaries of their souls are sliced open so their contents can be poured out & mixed together to make someone new. but even in conventional lyctorhood, there's some kind of exchange of whatever material makes up the soul between cavalier & necromancer. as our boy tells ianthe at the end of the unwanted guest,

This is the real truth of Lyctorhood, Ianthe--it's not some bloodless swapping-out of batteries. It's grafting; transplantation. When you absorbed Naberius Tern's soul, you didn't swallow a diamond. You swallowed a piece of meat...and the longer you digest that meat, the more its proteins and lipids and molecules mix in with yours, until you can't tell them apart anymore.

idk where i'm even going with all of this, i'm just rotating it in my head, but:

tamsyn muir is so precise with her necromancy jargon & anatomical terms that i feel like there's definitely meaning to be found in the imagery here. there is poetry in biology, the universe is made of stories not of atoms, etc etc

it turns out lysis is also the title of a dialogue of plato on "the true nature of loving friendship," so if any classics enjoyers have thoughts on that connection i would love to hear them!

if lyctorhood is transplantation, is it possible for that transplant to be rejected? can the graft refuse to take?

souls are contained within their edges not unlike how a cell membrane contains its cytoplasm. or how a capri sun pouch contains its juice. and lyctors slurp that shit up and digest it baby

why choose to link the soul so closely with water? (the river, bubbles, currents & waves in the river, nona saying the water of the river "doesn't want to touch us.") contents of souls = liquid in the same way that the river is a liquid??? the river = spirit version of the primordial soup???

dulcinea refers to the river having two shores, not just a generic "shore", so it sounds like they're different in some meaningful way. but that may be conditional on what happens in alecto ("if this ends well you'll find that out")? is the point of the river the river itself, or is the point of the river to separate those two places?

#tlt meta #the unwanted guest #the unwanted guest spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt speculation #on lyctorhood #the river #tamsyn i am in! your! walls!!! #(if you have thoughts on any of this please do engage i'm SO interested to hear other people's interpretations) #my posts #necro science #necromancy studies

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 16

Not the Love Actually India footage! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40600110/chapters/101720886 by @inspiteallthedanger is a favorite I should revisit after this painful day.

“Yes, what Were we doing?” Literally, why did you start this conversation, Paul? What did you think John and George were going to do? Just let you have your little casual chat about the footage? Come on, you know them better than that. “In your room?” “Yeah, right. I remember, yeah.” You set yourself up for this, babe. 

I would LOVE to know the real context for John’s mic-job. Because yes, that is real. He really did do that while staring like That at Paul. But it wasn’t after he said, “I don’t regret anything. Ever.” What was the real moment where John decided that was his move? And did Paul really just keep talking right over all of that? Beatles tumblr deserves access to all that footage just for all the obsessing we do. 

It is noteworthy, certainly, that we know for a fact that a good chunk of John’s India footage is just Paul, but in how much of that footage, I wonder, is Paul also focused on John?

We all know Paul approves, but why did we have to use valuable time to show monkey sex? I did not need to see that. 

“I have all the tapes, too.” Those laughs. You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are. Also, @ Lennon estate you won't release the tapes. Chickens.

George is just SO sick of their shit. “Because that was the purpose of going there was to try and find who yourself is.” AKA ‘I took your dumb asses on this beautiful spiritual retreat and you had to make it about your stupid psychosexual obsession just like you do with everything else.’ “And if you were really yourself, you wouldn’t be any of who we are now.” AKA ‘if you two would stop fucking hiding, we – me and Ringo too, you’ve dragged us down with you – wouldn’t be in this hellish mess.’ And here’s the thing. He’s pissed off. And rightly so. But he’s still going along with their veils and secrecy. A callback to his strumming over Paul ranting at him. He’ll still protect them even when he fundamentally disagrees. George is such a beautiful person and so underrated by people like me.

 Paul’s appreciative little look as John finally ends the difficult conversation. 

"Bye, Bye Love” is DEFINITELY *meaningful*

John calling Two of Us “Four of Us” is so sweet. Like saying to George and Ringo, “You are important too. Just because we don’t have weird thoughts about your physical adjacency to Elvis Presley, doesn't mean we don’t love you.” 

I think John’s willingness to be taught is also an underrated leadership quality of his. All the old men obsessed with Leader Lennon won’t acknowledge it, but that’s what it is. It’s humility and a recognition of other’s strength and it’s leadership.

Literally everyone else: Just don’t look and it’ll go away. John: what? Don’t look at Paul? I don’t know how to do that.

George and Ringo honestly had the patience of saints to just sit there and play through Two of Us eight million times so John and Paul could do their little accents and silly voices.

And then John can also do the traditional leadership, too. “Start again, ey. Shh, don’t talk when he’s playing there, gang.” And really, he’s the best of the four for that job by far.But it’s far from acerbic or cutting. Get Back John is certainly almost undiluted Lovely John. 

Quick reminder to anyone who may have forgotten: those boots George is wearing are literally Paul’s hand-me-downs. Earlier on the nagra reels, George was describing a kind of boots he’d like a pair of and Paul was like “I’ve got some you could have.”  Permanent baby brother status. 

“That’s a good idea, John.” “Yeah, well I’m full of ideas like that, I’m famous for ‘em. Literary Beatle, you know.” Puhlease. I know fics with more realistic dialogue.

“The things that’ve worked out best for us haven’t really been planned any more than this has, it’s just. You know, you just go into something and it just does it itself.” Yeah, George. Because of Brian. 

Paul really wants to do a big Thing at the end, because he loves performing, yeah. But what’s this about John and Yoko’s black bag? Does he think that performing together will remind John that being a Beatle with Paul is what he loves? Or does he just want closure before everything falls apart?

He really does hate to see him upset, doesn’t he. Like, I think he does a lot of things purposely to get a reaction out of Paul. And sometimes he needs to see him hurt to know he even cares. But from the way he’s watching Paul chewing his nails and rocking, you’d think Paul’s worries affected John physically. And then he breaks into “I Lost My Little Girl” almost as a sort of knee-jerk comfort instinct.  

These two shots are comedic gold.

My cabaret boys again. Heck, maybe I’ll write it just for myself. Honestly though I love that the two Beatles who loved performing and who would’ve been performers in any life (would’ve been performing circus elephants if they’d been reincarnated as animals) got to continue doing it into their eighties. One of the few happinesses in the end of the Beatles.

Get Back really is such a great character study, though. George hands John a drink. John takes it without looking at George, let alone the drink, and gulps. George hands Paul a drink. Paul smiles at him, then proceeds to sniff it and swirl it and inspect it like it might be poison before he gives it a taste. 

John chewing the mic. I hope you didn’t do That to Paul’s dick in India. What if that’s all that happened?

Bitching and gossiping: top requirements in the job description for John Lennon’s Codependent Special Person.

In these last few minutes of the day, I’m relating more and more to George. I’m sick of John and Paul and all their drama and stupidity. John suggests they write another verse of Let it Be together, and Paul looks frankly horrified at the idea.

So John lays his head in Yoko’s lap, reminding me painfully of that “ . . . except you can go to bed with it and it can pet your head without . . .” quote.

And then a few minutes later, Paul’s spiraling again and asks to go home to which John responds with a tease. “I’m just tryna get the group working, you know,” and “You’re gonna have to be strict, Paul.” And it’s just dizzying and frustrating at this point. Where are they possibly going to go at this rate?

#sorry that this one was late #And probably less coherent or insightful #Two jobs and a teething baby and a depressed husband today so it is what it is #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

[mamawasatesttube]

Do you think Superman ever found out about Superboy trying to drown himself?

so this is one of those thorny questions that rises out of the way dc editorial was like, well superboy and superman are separate books and we don't want superman all over superboy's story all the time. because in the text, there's absolutely no acknowledgment of it from clark, even when mae shows up and rips the s-shield patches off kon's jacket for misrepresenting what superman's crest stands for. if mae's heard of what's going on, surely clark should have heard about it too, right? but that never actually is shown to have happened anywhere in the aftermath of knockout arc.

it goes back to the attitudes prevalent in karl kesel's writing (and in general at dc in the 90s, i mean), with stuff happening to kon that SHOULD make any adult with a degree of common sense and responsibility go "hey! wait a minute!" but that has no real impact because karl kesel as the writer thinks it's nbd. like in superman jr and superboy sr, when clark is written as thinking kon and tana dating is just fine.

like, it's a discrepancy. because superman, the character whose entire thing is like. caring about everybody ever, and who IS shown to care for kon even before they're as close as they get later, ostensibly should have heard about superboy getting tangled up in something with a villain, and gone to investigate, and the fact that he didn't is entirely because editorial didn't let him, and because karl kesel didn't think this was a predatory situation. like yes knockout was written as manipulating and abusing kon, but not in a predatory way - just in the "manipulative and evil woman takes advantage of kind and naive boyfriend who wants to believe her" way. which is insane because she's also written calling him jailbait and all sorts of shit, but. that's just how kesel thinks sexual women are, and that's what he thinks teen boys fantasize about, etc., so it's not written in a fashion that even remotely condemns that behavior as Maybe Not Great.

because like. the thing is. if superman heard that a kid who fights crime wearing the crest of his house got manipulated into defending a villain and then tried to kill himself to take her down, of COURSE he would step in and say something or do something. in annual #2 he literally shows up just to talk to kon about how he's feeling about the paul westfield revelation - the idea that he wouldn't step in re: the knockout situation is absurd. it's completely out of character for him.

so like, no, i don't think he knows. it's the only way to explain him not showing up at any point. which is still hard to actually reconcile with the fact that mae did know, but... when working within the confines of what we're given with by a flawed canon that reflects its authors flawed views, we kinda have to bend stuff here and there a little, right? it's kind of impossible to make sense of, otherwise.

my personal interpretation of events is that clark was kind of avoiding too much news about kon in the early days because he needed some time to process the whole "being nonconsensually cloned while he was dead" thing, but also was in denial that he was upset or feeling violated at all, because he knew it wasn't kon's fault and because he was already fond of kon, and felt quite guilty for having any hangups about how kon came to be. it still takes a little fiddling (for instance, his appearance in annual #2) but it's the best way i've found to keep clark in character while having kon's story remain as it is. (i do find kon's narrative of exploitation and suicidality compelling. he's so kind and so full of joie de vivre and so independent. and at the same time those traits keep getting him taken advantage of. he's a vulnerable child in the spotlight. ough.)

#answers #the-dracologist #kon #clark #suicide cw #grooming cw

[svu-ncis-criminalminds]

Learning to Trust, Part 5

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 1757

Series Summary: Things with your boss were becoming complicated, but they became even more complicated when an Unsub sought you out and began targeting you. Can a relationship that hasn't even officially begun survive this?

Garcia set up a mobile system in the conference room so that she could verify and cross reference as you tried your best to piece together everything you could remember about the woman. Reid sat on one side of you, listening intently, and occasionally interrupting to ask a qualifying question. Emily was writing things on the board that stuck out more so than other details. 

Rossi was still trying to find more on Hiálmar - combing through some books that were so old their pages were yellow and crumbling. Reid would have read it faster but Rossi had a hunch. You couldn’t shake the familiarity of it still. 

“Ana was there before me,” You confirmed when Reid cut in, asking if you had gone to school together, “She was older then I was, maybe 21 or 22 when I first met her.” You could see her face like she was in the room with you now. Pale skin and bright blue eyes, long blonde hair she nearly always kept in a tight french braid. She had a strong brow and jaw. She never smiled, not with her lips, almost like such a display was beneath her. But she did smile with her eyes, and over the years you had missed that. 

“She was my friend,” Your voice was slightly strained as you spoke before you cleared it, looking away from Reid and Garcia. Your eyes landed on Aaron instead. He had been relatively quiet since you’d found Paul’s body and your last message from whoever was doing this - and it was beginning to eat at you.

Aaron met your eye and held your gaze for a moment, his eyes were slightly probing. He was checking on you. You offered him a tight smile and he nodded slightly. Much was said for two people who spoke no words. 

“Is Ana her real name?” Garcia asked, “Is there a last name?”

“Lundgren,” Your voice felt foreign on your tongue. Aaron moved around the outskirts of the room towards Rossi, glancing down at the man’s current work - attempting to give you the impression of privacy as you spilled your guts on the floor. “That’s her real name.” You knew that. 

The smell of bread filled the small studio of the cabin. You were currently assimilated into an organization that was holed up in a fishing village in the North. Ana’s gentle singing filled the room as you laid on the sofa, staring at the woodgrain of the ceiling. For a moment life was peaceful here with your friend. 

The singing quieted and Ana approached you, placing the bread on the table, already sliced and steaming, along with a small bowl of homemade butter. 

“You’re a gem,” You smiled, lazily reaching for a peace, “You love this shit don’t you?” Homesteading, as she called it. You grew up in a city, this was a new lifestyle for you. 

“I do,” Her eyes crinkled and you smiled, unable to help it. “My ma did a lot of this when I was a girl,” She told you, eyes glistening at the memory. You two had become close friends during the months you spent with the organization. Little contact was held with the rest of your team, some monitoring from afar, some elsewhere in the organization.

But that didn’t mean you talked about your families. “Sarah,” She spoke, garnering your attention again. Sarah. The name you’d given yourself when you joined the NIS - someone else entirely. “Do you ever worry?” She asked and you considered the question. Of course you worried. 

“Sure,” You agreed, biting into the bread to give yourself another moment to think, “Worry about plenty of things - are you worried?” 

“Sometimes I think,” She stopped. You knew what she was about to say. Not really - but you knew it was something you shouldn’t know - something you didn’t want to know. When joining this team you had all had to take an oath to leave your personal lives behind. You were no longer sons or daughters, friends, brothers, sisters. You were a team who was set to do a task and to do that task as efficiently as possible, there was no room for anything like that. In order to look humanity in the eye so closely - you were told to abandon your own. 

“I know,” You agreed, smiling tightly, “Me too,”

“My name is really Ana.” She looked at you, her eyes dull and watery. You didn’t like this Ana. “My last name, it’s Lundgren.” You palms felt sweaty, why was she telling you this, she shouldn’t be telling you this, “If I die you tell my ma, okay?” 

“Her mother’s name is Ulla. She’s passed but might help you track her down.” You pulled yourself from the memory, looking at Garcia who looked at you gently. “Ana is bottom of my list for suspect,” You told Garcia, like you were trying to reassure her, reassure yourself. 

“Then why are we starting with her?” Morgan asked. 

“Of those left, she probably knows me best,” You explained, “And,” you paused, “I’m worried she’s most likely to be the next target, if we can track her down, maybe…” you didn’t need to finish, he understood. Preventative. 

It was late when Garcia got a tentative contact number, half past one. She had an address as well, a family friend in Southern Pennsylvania. 

“I will call the local PD and request a wellness check,” Hotch stepped forward and you stood to meet him. 

“No, if we freak her and she goes into hiding no one will ever find her,” You assured him, “Let me try and call her first,” He looked at you seriously, and you could tell he didn’t think it was a good idea, “Please,” 

“Call. Once, if she doesn’t answer, leave a voicemail and I am calling the local PD. Then everyone,” He looked to you pointedly, “Is getting some rest.” He had his no business Hotch voice on, and a glare to match. In another world under different circumstances you’d be fawning over the handsome display, you may even argue to rile him up a bit more. But right now you were tired - emotionally - physically - and he was right. You hoped he was right. 

You dialed the number from a secure line and hit call before placing the phone to your ear and counting the rings. One. Two. Three - voicemail. 

“I’ve been sent to voicemail,” You told the room.

“Sent?” Garcia asked, typing furiously at her computer. 

“Please leave a message after the beep,” The robot told her before a ‘beep’ emitted from the phone, you were silent for a moment before you swallowed and spoke. 

“Hey,” You breathed, “It’s me, call me back at this number - please - we - Kod röd, fara sång i soldat.” Another beat of silence and you hung up before looking at Aaron, “You can call the local PD. If she listens to that message she’ll call me back - if she doesn’t.” You shrugged slightly before turning and walking from the room. Not bothering to say anything to your team as you went - though you could feel their eyes, those pitying looks - on your back as you walked towards the elevator. You hit the down button, and someone stopped beside you. You knew who it was. You waited for the elevator in silence before stepping in together - he hit the button for the floor of the parking garage and you rode the elevator together in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron finally spoke and you looked at him surprised for a moment.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You reminded him. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry it’s happening,” He reminded you, and your lips threatened to tug into a smile momentarily. 

“Thank you,” You sighed and he nodded his head, “I’m sorry,” It was his turn to look surprised.

“For what?”

“Bringing this to the team.” The elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the dark - nearly empty parking garage. 

“No,” His word was firm and final, he stopped to face you, a hand going to your elbow and squeezing. “You’re not going to blame yourself for this - not if I have anything to do about it.” You stood there for a moment before your eyes began to burn. 

“It is my fault,” You told him, almost feeling an anger bubbling within you, what did he know? He didn’t know what you saw, what you did, what your nightmares replayed over and over, “These people - for years Aaron they were my world for good or bad.” He looked sad, his hand tightening on your arm and tugging you slightly closer as a stray tear threatened to escape. 

“You were a child who was recruited into a government organization, you were used.” His words feld sharp and you flitched. Aaron saw and the fact that anyone - at any moment could come down that elevator and stumble upon the pair - didn’t matter anymore. The man pulled you forward fully, guiding you into a hug, wrapping firm arms around you and holding you tightly to his chest. You broke. The tears fell forward dampening his dress shirt as you sobbed into his chest. Sobbed hard. Sobbed for your childhood, sobbed for the girl you were, sobbed for the years you lost. Sobbed for you now - having to deal with this all again. And when you had no more tears left you hiccupped into the man’s chest - catching your breath. 

The whole time Aaron had stood firm and strong and held you in his arms allowing you to get it all out. He had one arm wrapped tightly around you, keeping you to him, and the other hand rubbed reassuring circles in your back the entire time, even as you calmed yourself down. 

But now you didn’t move to step back. You smelled his cologne, masking his sweat and the scent of coffee. Now you were embarrassed. For breaking down so dramatically and in front of Aaron Hotchner nonetheless. If you stepped back now, you’d have to face him. 

“Are you alright,” He whispered and his chest rumbled in front of you. 

“Yes,” You whispered, finally pulled back from him, but his arm remained around you, not letting you go far, “No, well, better.” You laughed, “Sorry, thank you I needed that.” He smiled gently and nodded.

“Never apologize to me for crying, alright? You’re allowed to.” You nodded. You believed him - for the first time someone had given you permission to feel vulnerable around them, and you believed him.

Tag List

@ivebeenthearchersstuff, @emalynvtgtgfhvgg , @flashyflash23-blog

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #cm x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader

[gothamslostboy]

•Favorite Place To Kiss You•

David

HAND

Specifically the back of the hand

But he also loves kissing your palm

Just a little bit less

He holds it in both of his hands

And looks you in the eyes as he smiles and kisses it gently

He does it like

aallllllllll

The time

Sitting in the cave relaxing? Hand kiss

Out on the boardwalk picking a snack? Smooch

Worried about something he’s about to do? Hand kiss “don’t worry babydoll, I’ve got this under control”

The first time he kisses you & all the boys was a hand kiss

He’s obsessed with it

Dwayne

FOREHEAD

This one is pretty obvious

I know Billy Wirth is 5’ 11”

But I imagine Dwayne as 6’ 4” or more

So it’s objectively the second easiest place to kiss you

But he has a reason to prefer it over the top of your head

Kissing someone’s forehead is a sign of adoration

It’s also a way to comfort someone

When Dwayne specifically does it, he’s telling you that you’re safe from harm

That he’ll always be there to protect you

Emotionally and physically

He does it as a hello and goodbye

And also uses it as an “I love you” w/o having to verbally say it

It’s a gentle kiss

But if he was worried about you or you’re hurt it’s quicker and a bit forceful

Usually hugging you when he does it

Paul

LIPS

He’s a big fan of the classic

Let’s be real

Paul kisses you all over no matter where you are

But most often it’s the lips

Also says something cheesy

“Give me some sugar, Sugar;]”

Very rarely is it a peck on the lips

Paul would make out with you every time if you let him

Sometimes he forgets that you need to breathe

If he’s excited about something which is basically all the time he puts some extra passion into the kiss

But also gives really sweet, long, gentle kisses when it’s a more chill environment

The first time he gives you one of those kisses is when you two say I love you for the first time

And believe me

You’re trying to get another one of those asap

Marko

NECK/COLLARBONE

He’s the most territorial of the boys imo

They all are,

But Marko wins by far

What’s his is his and gods save the dumbasses who try to interfere

Besides his brothers, he can share with them

And the best way to let everyone know you’re his?

Hickeys

aalllllll over this area

The other boys are genuinely concerned you’re hurt right after you leave Marko’s nest

Marko also just likes to see your reaction

Anytime your heart rate increases

A shiver runs down your spine

Or goosebumps appear on your skin

Marko relishes in the fact he caused it

And you bet your ass he does this shit in public

Specifically when someone flirts with you

Mid sentence while you’re rejecting them

He just comes up behind you and starts marking you

Making eye contact with the idiot until they go away

He also eats them later but whatever

Another benefit he enjoys

He can hear the blood pulsing through your veins and feel your pulse

He always kisses a new hickey gently after making it

——— TAGS ———

@britany1997

#glb tlb #the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul tlb #the lost boys david #david tlb #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne tlb #the lost boys marko #marko tlb #the lost boys headcanons #tlb paul #head canon #thelostboys #thelostboys 1987 #tlb marko #tlb dwayne #tlb david #kiss #horror #horror movies #80s horror #80s movie #vampire #vampires #vampire movies #vampire horror

[machinesonix]

Gang, I love the Harkonnens. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t endorse the Harknonnens, but there is something really refreshing about unsanitized villains. They aren’t inhuman slaves to Morgoth, they aren’t seeking restitution for some sort of childhood trauma with dalmatians, they are just shitty, weird people and we get to talk about how those people think without trying to excuse it. What really made me fall in love is the sheer alien weirdness of Geidi Prime in the 1984 movie, and if you haven’t seen that I really recommend you check that out. I feel like there should be some sort of trigger warning, but I don’t really know how I’d tag it so use your best discretion. Today I want to zoom in on a Harkonnen scene towards the end of the first book that I personally would like to see in some sort of extended cut. Let’s dig in.

I’m gonna start off by reminding everyone about the most famous scene in the franchise right at the beginning. You know it. The pain box. ‘I hold at your neck the gom jabbar, it’s poison kills only animals.’ Mohaim is testing Paul’s ability to delay gratification by threatening to stab him with a poison needle if he pulls out of the pain box. We've all seen the memes. Now let's talk about Feyd.

In the book, the whole un-drugged gladiator thing was Feyd's own doing. See, Feyd's family doesn't take him very seriously. He's been chosen as the na-Baron because he's got charisma and he'll look like the savior of Arakkis after Rabban and Vladimir, but he’s a big showboater that has all his fights rigged. By conspiring with Thufir to get a real Atredies soldier into the arena with him, he is forcing his family to realize how important he is to them. If something happens to him, everything goes up in smoke. But he's also given a chance to demonstrate that he is competent (even if he's cheating with a poisoned blade and some selective brainwashing of the undrugged slave.) The seduction with Lady Fenrig happens off screen, but I think in both Herbert and Villinueve's telling of the story, both of these show us this conflict Feyd has with the pressures of his family whether they're tests from the Baron or something he does to himself in response to those pressures. Finally, and most importantly to Feyd, when the Baron executes his slavemaster for slipping up with the gladiators, the next slavemaster is on Feyd's payroll.

Years down the line the Baron finds a poison needle hidden on one of his slave boys and immediately knows what's up. Feyd is trying to claim the Baron's seat and he's been planning on it ever since He calls Feyd in to make him watch as his entire staff and harem is executed on a whim. Here's where we get the absolute juicy thematic inversion. This shit makes me salivate in a way I might want to talk with a therapist about. The Baron says ‘Feyd, you know what this whole poison needle business tells me? You don't know where your priorities are. I am working on setting up the Harkonnens for generations to come and you're so laser focused on the inheritance you haven’t put any thought into what comes next. So stop trying to kill me and let's talk about your future.’

Feyd-Rautha is, by Bene Gesserit standards, an animal. In the Villinueve film we kinda skirt around the idea by hearing he's such a weirdo that the nerve induction gets him off, but I think this scene here really helps to illustrate why Paul might be the Kwizatz Haderach and Feyd has no shot. They've both got the genetics and the ability to win over a crowd. Nobody saw it coming, but the Kwizatz Haderach's ultimate purpose is to wage the war that will literally end all wars, you'd think Feyd-Murder-For-Fun-Rautha would be a shoe-in to traumatize humanity to violence once and for all. But the fact he'd be good at it is what makes him ineligible. The Kwizatz Haderach can't be someone who thinks in the short term. If Paul didn't have the big picture in mind, he would have fled from the violent future he saw himself being responsible for. If Feyd were in his shoes, there is no way he could stop from getting lost in the sauce. Feyd orchestrated his own gom jabbar in the attempt on his uncle's life, and he failed. Even if he saw the same path to save humanity, he'd have too many opportunities to indulge his glory seeking.

#dune #dune meta #baron harkonnen #feyd rautha #house harkonnen

[saintarmand]

Hi! Do you think that s2 big reveal will be that Armand manipulated Louis memory? What do you think the "disastrous consequences in Dubai" mean? Louis attempting suicide as many books fans expect?

no. i think the "big reveal" will be that armand didn't have to. louis knows armand did the thing and stayed with him anyway like he did in the books. they very well may lead the audience to believe armand is doing that to louis, when it was actually daniel who got his memories wiped (and daniel may have agreed to it.) and i think any inconsistencies about the events of s1 that may or may not be revealed will be because of louis repressing memories the old fashioned way. at most armand helped a little. and i'm not saying that only because of the racist and abuse apologist implications or just cause i'm an armand stannie or whatever, although that's all also true. i'm saying that because i think the story is better for it.

to me, armand having significant overarching influence, especially though literal magic, on the story we've been told (specifically LOUIS's story told BY louis), undermines the theme of "memory is a monster." they told us the fallibility of memory in this story is the real life kind; how memory naturally changes every time we remember events in our lives, how our present self affects how we look at the past, etc. this is a fantasy story, yes, but it's very much grounded in reality. the racism isn't "fantasy racism", for example. having the twist be that a crucial element of the story that we were told was real was actually magic would lame and disappointing as hell. i think daniel having his memories wiped magically will be a parallel to louis. but the thing about parallels is that they're not meant to be literal or complete, and they emphasize differences as much as similarities, in order to reinforce the ideas and themes of the story, not replace them. so i think that while louis and daniel's memory issues can look similar on the surface, they have different causes and the show will make it clear which is which.

hell, they've even shown us magical manipulation vs regular manupulation before. we saw lestat entrance several humans including louis himself ("his gaze tied a string around my lungs and i found myself immobilized") but it was done in a way that made it obvious when it was happening, so general audiences weren't speculating lestat was using vampire magic to make louis fall in love with him or agree to be turned or whatever. he was shown to have powers he could have used at key points but didn't, more often using very basic human manipulation tactics, which were actually even more effective. even the idea of lestat causing paul's death was brought up only to be discarded. i think they'll pretty much do the same thing with armand, only teasing us a bit more with it. and sure, some people will still speculate, but i think this is what the intention of the writers is, and hopefully they do it well.

i assume the "disastrous consequences in dubai" is an interview quote and i've heard something like that but since i don't have the full context in front of me it's hard to say much about it. if you could tell me the whole quote and who said it and where and in what context i could probably talk about it in more detail lol. link me if you'd like?

what i will say right now is that i think there's gonna be a lot of arguments and accusations and revelations in dubai, i think louis will go through a hell of an emotional rollercoaster, i think daniel will find out about the eternal sunshine of the devil's minion as i like to call it, will ask to be turned again or at least realize he still wants it, i think louis and armand will break up, and i think there will be a book released by the end.

the louis suicide attempt theory i believe is based on merrick, which i still haven't read (i need to get my shit together and read it before may 12th lol) so it's difficult for me to say much about it? i know he attempts suicide at the end and that him talking to claudia's ghost who's fucking furious with him is a thing that happens. something like that anyway, i've read some quotes from it. i highly doubt louis has been talking to her literal ghost at this point in the show, he's just doing that metaphorically. i would love to see it in the future though.

honestly to me just the fact that armand said out loud that he thinks the interview is basically louis's suicide note indicates that's probably not actually what's going on. that's usually how it works in stories lol. when the character tells you what they think is gonna happen it never happens like that. (on the whole "other vampires will paint the walls with his blood" thing, i think the human world will assume the book is made up bullshit or daniel is senile or crazy, and because of that most vampires won't care that much. would be pretty dumb to kill him since it would only draw more attention to him and the book. i do like the idea of lestat, inspired by louis, going on to more or less successfully prove the existence of vampires, causing a big ruckus, and the whole "great conversion" thing that was mentioned, being a part of the show version of the queen of the damned somehow.)

louis attempting suicide could still happen i guess but i just don't think it's that interesting or particularly good writing in the context of the story being told in seasons 1 & 2. not only because it's kinda predictable and basic and boring to me but like. if he tries kill himself and fails, that's basically him being forced to live. to me, louis choosing to live on in this continuous state of mourning is much more compelling and devastating even, than him having no choice in it. it's like with him staying with armand, isn't it waaaayyy more fucked up and sad if he's doing that of his own volition as opposed to being kept there against his will? that's a story about who louis is, the choices he makes, not about how he's a victim. of course he still is an abuse victim etc, and that's certainly not his fault, but him blaming himself and seeing himself as just as bad as lestat or armand because he "let" it all happen is, to me, a core part of his character. in the book he monologues about his passivity being his biggest fault; in the show he insists "i'm not a victim" even as he's telling us a story about being abused. abuse culture & catholic guilt baby!

also. the thematic note the book ends on is, to me anyway, about the human spirit clinging to life even in devastating circumstances. armand tells louis how so many vampires resort to suicide, but louis doesn't (in book one.) he keeps going, haunted by his past, dead inside and out yet still alive, unable to let go. and he spends the whole book telling daniel the boy reporter how awful immortality is and yet daniel still wants it, thinking it will be different this time. choosing the horrors life throws us, even the cursed half life or unlife of a vampire, over the horror of the unknown that is permanent death. etc etc etc. i love this part of the book too much to want to let it go!

hell, armand only tries to kill himself after finding out what hell is "really like" in memnoch the devil, and while i don't know cause i haven't read merrick yet, i bet that influenced louis too. death isn't as terrifying when you know what to expect.

and i'm also just not a fan of the idea that actually most of the other books' events have also already happened. because then that influences the characters who are telling us the story, in ways that we won't find out until seasons later. like if louis tries to kill himself at the end of season 2 and then in like season 7 or some shit we find out actually it wasn't because of what happened in s1-2 it was actually because right before the interview he was talking to claudia's ghost who said horrible things to him and also because he found out hell is real but it's actually a bit more like purgatory where if you prove yourself you get to go to heaven eventually and also because— like you can see how that would be bad storytelling right? lmao. not that revealing new information about characters or events later is always bad, it can be very interesting and beneficial even, but not if it undermines or completely changes the whole story before that point. not shading AR's retcon habit here at all not at all of course not i would never do that

anyway i think i've rambled enough. thank you for asking!

#asks #anon #iwtv #s #interview with the vampire #vampterview

[queeoretician]

Initial thoughts on The Unwanted Guest below the cut:

Well, damn. There sure is a lot going on here, and I'm all about it.

Front and centre is the concept of the permeability of the soul, and there's so damn much to chew on around that. Then we have Dulcie! Dulcie! She and Pal finally get to talk, both dead but still kicking! She would have liked Gideon! And we get more direct insight into Ianthe's psychology, which is a nasty little treat.

The first place my mind went was to Paul - if Pal and Cam were already experiencing memory transference, then maybe they saw some kind of soul merger as inevitable, and that was another push towards doing it intentionally, doing it right. But writing it down now I'm less sure of that inference. And the fact that Pal and Dulcie got to talk, really talk, was both wonderful and all the more bittersweet if (I'm assuming) Pal's and Cam's individual souls no longer exist to reunite with Dulcie in Alecto. I have to say, when I first read Nona I didn't really get why people found the birth of Paul to be so sad, but I've come around on it since then. (I should write more about that sometime...)

Regarding the permeability of Ianthe's soul, one thing that occurred to me is that her genderfuckery vibes over the past two books are probably not Ianthe Tridentarius's identity, but a new thing formed of the (imbalanced) gestalt that is Ianthe Naberius. I really hope Alecto gives us more on gender and lyctorhood and soul permeability! I imagine this is all the more jarring for Ianthe with how she's so deeply anchored to her relationship with Corona, to find her ego boundaries to be permeable in relation to Babs. I firmly believe her shell-shocked reaction to the birth of Paul was at least in part her thinking "oh shit, did I eat the wrong person?" If she had wanted this kind of erosion of self with anyone (and I'm not sure she did), it would have been Corona. Having it happen with Babs by accident is a real slap in the face.

Which brings me back to my wild theory for Alecto - Corona will (at least try to) pull a Paul with Judith, and Ianthe will utterly lose her shit. This story really underscored just how little Ianthe understands her sister, which we already saw some of in the embassy scene. Sure, Corona isn't the flawless sword hand that Babs was, but in BoE she's shown herself to be a canny operator and a decent fighter, which Ianthe is steadfastly in denial of. At the end of the day I believe the story of Ianthe will be of someone who loved without understanding, who put her love up on a pedestal and at the same time belittled her as someone both more and less than she actually was.

Another thing that I latched onto was the argument about whether lyctors' cavaliers' souls provide a truly perpetual source of energy or not. Ianthe was pretty adamant that they do, but that honestly came across as arrogance or bravado. There's a strong parallel between lyctoral power and nuclear power, and all kinds of nuclear activity eventually reach a point past which they no longer emit appreciable energy, so I feel confident in saying that lyctoral power also diminishes over a long enough timespan. I'm less sure of whether this will come up in Alecto, though - I would be quite surprised if we saw a 100,000-year timeskip (but if we did that could be super fucking interesting).

Back to more direct applications of soul permeability, I have to imagine there's been some exchange of something between Jod and Alecto, at least before he locked her in the Tomb. That could go in all kinds of interesting directions that I haven't yet had a chance to contemplate adequately.

Speaking of Alecto, the John chapters of Nona seem like a pretty clear case of transference between her and Harrow. I wonder - were those happening concurrently with the Nona chapters? If so, it would make for a nice symmetry between Harrow and Alecto/Nona.

Either way, we've got a gross messy soul transference hookup graph with Gideon<-->Harrow<-->Alecto<-->John (gross) - I'm dying to know more about what this means for each of them (especially with Tazmuir's "if Gideon's soul is a happy meal" line from this interview).

So as usual, Aaaaaaa there's so much to chew on and so much more I want to know and I can't wait for Alecto aaaaaa...

#the locked tomb #the unwanted guest #tlt meta #tlt spoilers #the unwanted guest spoilers #ianthe tridentarius #ianthe naberius #prince ianthe naberius #palamedes sextus #dulcinea septimus #naberius tern #paul tlt #coronabeth tridentarius #crown him with many crowns #john gaius #alecto tlt #nona tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrowhark the first #gideon nav #kiriona gaia

[infectedpaul]

i thought about how pauls one . real reoccuring character arc/theme other than the unsaid (said and just completely treated as normal and casual and not Terrifying and really said) depression and complete need to strip himself of humanity is Emma Perkins. shes got a lot going on lots of stuff you can write and expand on with emma and her relationships, coworkers, in laws shes trying to build a real connection with, a career and Waaacky employee/sidekick, the very confusing relationship with hidgens and thats all before i even SAID jane perkins's name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! plus all the shit that comes with THAT youve got like 18 years with an unseen family that all we know mustve Sucked shit and are DEAD NOW APPARENTLY! and youve also got a lot of lore relevance to extrapolate from the perkins having ties to the hatchetmen/the republican family i dont fucking remember their names im stoned and the founders of hatchetfield ???? theres SO MANY SITUATIONS IN STORE.

outside of all the hcs, get out of here with that uncle au stuff (dont i think its cute but fortalking abt. Canon here) go through that list and compare it with pauls. Coworkers. check , id also say theres a bit of a special connection there with bill its in like. Really small print but Something Happened there . and I GUESS ALSO MELISSA SO THERES. TWO but like as for jumping off points for pauls character and explorations of relationships and shit. Thats it ! Thats LITERALLY it aside from.. The person he ACTIVELY goes out of his way to spend time with more than literally other person he sees . he refuses every call to action cause hed rather spend his 15 minute break seeing this Onee girl at a coffee shop

aND THATS IT!!! tgwdlm? paul denies . again every call to action, including the ones sent by. GOD. time and time again but its all to come back to this girl. so much so, that even death wont stop his singing smiling corpse from holding her again. how abt forever and always? dude he straight up says he never had . any PURPOSE before her. and like maybe this is from this specific. Perspective of this paul, the 23rd in line and aware of his making and artificiality. felt he did not have a REAL purpose in life until her, but also considering that these pauls are made of a paul who has ALREADY met emma. its safe to say those . would have to be pre baked in but have bloomed into its own kind of love, the one paul perkins has for emma matthews . but. still. even in their little cameos theyre always . together. i say this especially because emma has had a full episode and timeline never specifiying that these two have even Met yet and still carries it well, but the closest pauls had to having a . Story without emma is like his cameos in honey queen?

like the narrative is SO fucking uninterested in paul matthews if hes not serving a purpose to emmas plot . in a utilitarian sense , there is no paul without paulkins.

yknow the barbie quote? yeah

#dex says things #AND IM NOT COMPARING PAUL TO KEN IM SAYING THE NARRATIVE IS FDSLFJASLFJASKFAS #paulkins #paul matthews #emma perkins

[quotidianish]

uh uhhhh a the uhh

the tf2s are terrorized by a big scary monster living in the base,, and when they find it it turns out to be like, a possum or something . That might be silly uhhhh

oh oh uh everybody shows their appreciation for miss pauling,, because she’s pretty epic and she deserves some I think

medic and heavy try to have a nice date and everybody keeps on interrupting them and eventually they just give up

engineer and medic invent some stupid shit together honestly just more engineer and medic friendship would be epic

sniper scout and demo all apart are smart in their own rights,, but when together 1 braincell,,,

hmmm uhh. ,, , heavy helps spy learn Russian? Or maybe heavy doesn’t know spy can speak Russian so he insults him one day and spy insults him back

scout and spy do a father-son activity ,, but not because they wanted to do father-son bonding ,it was by accident. Like scout was rambling about baseball and spy said it was stupid so he was like, oh yeah? Bet you’re just jealous, and spy retorts by saying he can throw and scout bets him and they end up playing catch lmao

more trans soldier,,, for the funsies

sniper and demo argue about cryptids and which ones are real or not,, and which animals are real or not because a lot of Australian animals totally sound like cryptids

tired medic,, I know he’s probably on cocaine like twenty four seven or however you say it, but he’s gotta run out at some point

engineer gaming losing his mind !!!! ho boy that’d be scary I think,

pyro’s parents are coming to earth to visit them and they’re like some sort of cosmic-lovecraftian-horrors ,, peeping the horror am I right or am I r anyway scout can handle these man-made horrors just fine maybe you have a skill issue or something

demo listens to breakcore,, I know it’s not like invented for like another million years but idk I think I’d be silly and I think he’d like it

scout learns how to read yayyyyy he reads his first book or something maybe like the ones with the silly golden retriever you know the ones,, like uhh hmm let me search it up OH THE DOG’S NAME IS BISCUIT !!! Yeah the biscuit books,, the I Can Read! ones

movie night !! Its spy’s turn to pick the movie but nobody except heavy and soldier like it and scout starts to argue and eventually they end up with pyro picking the movie like always. (They just put on golden girls episodes’ or something)

Demo is secretly a painter,, more specifically an impasto painter. Pyro finds out and is amazed and asks him to help them learn how to paint. Demo lets them touch the paintings. (impasto paintings are meant to be touched ,,I mean how could you look at all the epic texture and just not. come on now)

I wish I had more but that’s all the thoughts my brain will let me think tonight, hope these help and stuff!! Also I love your art and your memes are so fucking funny,, your headcannons are very epic too,,,, hhhh goodnight I have to sleep now it is 4 am oh nooooo

Ohhh all of these headcanons are so good…. Especially love the scout + spy father son bonding activity. Aggressively chucks ball at his da’s crotch. Swings bat and accidentally managed to bash his son in the face. At the end they have achieved a new level of understanding with one another. Btw medic’s proposing to heavy on that one where the offense class is stalking out of a bush. And thank you so much man <333 these headcanons are fire too 💥💥🫡

#tf2 #art #quotidianish